"NOT AT HOME" 



BY 



HATl IE HORNER LC^UTH^N 




" / grant to tJie king his reign. 

Let us yield him homage due, 

But over the land there are twain, 

O King : I must reign with you. 

■' I grant to the wise his r.ieed, 

But his yoke I ivill not brook. 
For God taught me to read,— 
He lent vie the World for a book,' 



NEW YORK 

JOHN B. ALDEN, PUBLISHER 

1889 






Copyright, 1889, 

BY 

HATTIE HORNEE. 



CONTENTS. 



I.— LETTEES FROM WISCONSIN. 

A First Venture from the State .... 9 

National Educational Association in Session - - 12 

Impressions of a Pretty Northern City— A Lake Excursion 14 
Educational Exhibits — Woman's Meeting — Governor Rusk's 

Reception - - - - - 18 
-Last Meeting of N. E. A.—" Three Words " from Each State 22 

IL— LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 

" From Land of Snow to Land of Sun " - - 31 

A Bird Store— High Mass at Old St. Louis Cathedral - 38 

Morning in Old French Market - - - - 44 

Destruction of Pompeii— An Out-door Drama - - 49 

Cemeteries of the City - - - - - 54 

An Early Breakfast — Sunday in New Orleans - - 56 

The World's Fair— Main Building and Horticultural Hall - 60 

The State Displays— Woman's Department - - 65 

Art Hall 70 

United States Mint— Slaughter House ... 76 

Scene at the Levee — Departure of the " Natchez " - - 81 

Carrolton and the West End— More Cemeteries - - 89 
Visit to Custom House and Sub-Treasury Department— A 

Bird's-Eye View of New Orleans - - - 94 

A "Formal Call" 98 

A Scrap Letter 102 

Moody and Sankey Meetings— Good-bye to New Orleans 107 



CONTENTS. 
III.— LETTEKS FKOM COLORADO. 

"Ho! for the West" 113 

First Glimpse of the Rocky Mountains— Colorado Springs 118 

" Abroad for the Summer " — A Fashionable Resort - 132 

Excursion to South Park ... - 128 

Cheyenne Canon — Helen Hunt's Grave - - - 136 

To Pike's Peak via Seven Lakes - ■ - 142 

The Climb to the Summit - - ■ - - 148 

View from the Summit of Pike's Peak— The Descent - 156 

Rainbow Falls— Grand Caverns— Garden of the Gods - 163 

" Beautiful Denver " ..... 168 
" A Province Covered with Houses " - - -173 

Twelve Baskets of Fragments - - - - 179 
Making a Grace of Necessity - - - -183 

A " Family "—Fort Union - - - - 190 

About Watrous 196 

A New-Mexican Sunset— Las Vegas— A Country Town 

"Dance" 200 

A New-Mexican " Round Up " - . - . 205 

"Adios!" 313 

IV.— LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 

" Away to the West, as the Sun Went Down" - - 219 

A. T. and S. F. Ball and Banquet at the Phrenix - 324 

City of Holy Faith— En Route Again ----- 239 

An Improvised Concert— Sunday Service in a Palace Car 337 

The " Golden Gate "—Opening of N. E. A. - - - 346 

Chinatown Proper ------ 250 

Chinatown Improper ------ 255 

Santa Barbara— Montecito .... 264 

San Diego and Surroundings ----- 373 

Homeward ------- 283 

v.— FRAGMEJ^TS - - - - 291 



Loose thy detaining hand, sweet Home, 

I cannot stay, 
lyEy spirit strives and longs to roam, 

It would away. 

What are thy narrow, narrow walls, 

And 'customed g'-oves, 
To all the wondrous scene that falls 

To him who roves ? 

My fancy has out-grown the hill 

That iiem'd my youtli. 
My soul must search and find its fill 

Of God's sweet Truth. 



NOT AT HOME 



L— LETTERS FROM WISCONSIN. 



A First Venture from the State. 

Chicago, III. 

The boarding of the early cannon ball at Peabody 
on the morning of the 1 3th, with a ticket for Madi- 
son, Wisconsin, via Chicago, marked a red-letter day 
for me. So it would for almost any one whose 
" going East" had terminated at Emporia, and West 
at Newton ; so the first thing I did was to mark it — 
like the Saint-days of old — Avith red letters. This 
done, I sank back to the gloomy reflection that 
when the top of the State Normal School building 
should disappear, I should have to surrender myself 
and valise to the tender mercies of steam for the 
remainder of my untried journey. 

What a relief, then, when the train halted at 
Emporia, to see my coach door opened to Miss Spen- 
cer, Miss Plumb, Miss Bartlett and others, the first 
two bound for Madison also ! This gave me most 
agreeable company as far as Kansas City, where our 
paths diverged. The summer afternoon had lost 
itself in its endeavor to keep pace with us, and it 
was after 5 o'clock when the Union depot was 
reached. Here once more I reflected. Kansas City, 



10 NOT AT HOME. 

Night, and I, a very pleasing trio, viewed separately 
and by daylight ; but it was from a near inspection 
that my conclusions were drawn. Therefore, bidding 
adieu to my friends (now joined by Miss Price, of 
Wellington), I took the 6:40 p.m. Kock Island train, 
thus breaking the trio by leaving Kansas City, and 
taking the night, my share of it, with me. 

The Chicago, Kock Island and Pacific line to Chi- 
cago — what a pleasant route it is ! accommodating 
officers, reclining chair cars, comfortable and elegant; 
fine scenery and fast time ; in fact, all things condu- 
cive to comfort, cleanliness, and convenience — words 
applicable for their perfect fitness as well as allitera- 
tion. 

"Never less alone than when alone." What a 
throng of fancies came to aid in whiling the hours 
which the noVelty of my position would not permit 
to be slept away! What "name and local habita- 
tion" did imagination give to the ever-changing 
cloud-shafies ! how the tiny sparks of fire streaming 
past the window became as living things — 

" Rising thro' the mellow shade, 
Glittering like a swarm of fire-flies 
Tangled in a silver braid." 

And later, suggested by the cloud-hindered moon, 
there came to mind a quaint little poetic simile, once 
read and nearly forgotten : 

" That night the sky was heaped with clouds ; 
Thro' one blue gulf profound, 
Begirt with many a windy crag, 
The moon came rushing, like a stag, 
And one star — like a hound." 



LETTERS FROM WISCONSIN. 11 

By 7 o'clock a. m. ^ve had gained Muscatine, one 
of the prettiest phices through which we passed. 
Here the Mississippi bursts on your sight. You see 
for the first time, to remember (if you are putting 
yourself in my place), a steamboat, the Ida Ma;/. 
The logs lying side by side on the water are ;i 
curiosity, and you see more lumber here than you 
have ever seen. Skiffs are numerous, and the tiny 
sail-boat recalls, in spite of the diversity, the idler's 
noonday excursion on the Campanian Sea, in the last 
of Lytton's works you have read. "We follow the 
river closely now, and glimpses of it may be seen at 
intervals through the trees. 

Fairport, the next station, I heard styled 'Jug- 
toAvn,'' because of its many potteries, I presume. 
We were soon crossing the river by the long bridge 
and viewing with admiration the beauties of the tri- 
cities: Davenport, Rock Island, and Moline. Tlie 
chief attraction of these cities (and the moral may 
be applied to other things beside cities) lies in the 
fact that they do not present themselves at once to 
the traveler's eye ; but, situated as they are in tlie 
graceful curves of the river, they continue to give 
p'easant httle surprises at every turn. The island, 
too, is an object of interest, with its United States 
Arsenal buildings, the towers and flags of which 
may be seen even from East Moline. 

At La Salle we encountered the canal, with its 
queer boats and locks. For the attractions of the 
remainder of the journey, must I look, returning. 
Concerning them just then I was too sleepy to know, 
and too tired to care. 

Arrived here at 2:30 and \)\\i up at the Atlantic 



13 JS'OT AT HOME. 

Hotel, which is headquarters for the Kansas delega- 
tion. President Taylor took the boat this morning 
for Milwaukee, while the first detachment of our 
teachers has gone on to Madison. I shall most 
probably join the last delegation, which left Kansas 
City this forenoon, and is due here at seven to-mor- 
row morning. 

1 am looking eagerly forward to our arrival at the 
educational Mecca, from whence I wall write again. 
I hear a great deal about the political outlook, and 
also many amusing stories regarding Kansas. But 
my notes are too lengthy already. 

ISational Educational- Association in Sp:ssion. 

Madison, Wis. 

"We are all here, after a long siege with omnibus- 
agents, hack-drivers and baggage-masters ; all here — 
that is undeniable. But owing to a general misun- 
derstanding and a particular want of arrangements 
we were all promiscuously dispersed from Chicago. 

Prof, and Mrs. Taylor, accompanied by Misses 
Kulilman and Holmes, came yesterday via Milwau- 
kee, per boat and rail. I was the next stranger in 
a strange land, via the St. Paul, Minnesota and 
Northwestern line. Miss Spencer followed, arriving 
with the New England delegation of four hundred 
teachers in a special train. And last came the 
remainder of Professor Canfield's party (who stopped 
to note points of interest in the Lake City), including 
Misses Hoxie, Price, Plumb, and Crichton. 

Now we are established in private houses in par- 
ties of six, and are next-door neighbors on a pleasant 
street. How well we are satisfied with our locations 



LETTERS FROM WISCONSIN. 13 

and the programmes thus far, might be gleaned from 
various remarks of our company — /. ^\, "Our 
lines are cast in pleasant places; " " 1 am realizing 
my dreams of Fairyland ; " " We are glad we live 
in the nineteenth century and belong to the profes- 
sion ; " and the universal echoing of Fawcett's words : 
"How pleasant is the first familiar face one sees in 
a strange land ! " We enjoy the distinction our State 
has won, and, thanks to Professor Canlield, we wear 
our Kansas badges with pride. 

It is safe to say there are four thousand teachers 
in the city to-night, and every incoming train is 
over-crowded. This morning the National Council 
of Education held a short session ; also the Wiscon- 
sin State Teachers' Association. In the afternoon 
the Froebel Institute of North America went into 
session, likewise the National Musical Convention. 

This evening an enormous crowd gathered in tlie 
flag-draped assembly chamber of the beautiful Cap- 
itol building to hear the address, "Citizenship and 
Education," by Hon. J. L. Curry, LL. D., of Vir- 
ginia, After an appropriate complimentary refer- 
ence to the choice of a place of meeting, he spoke of 
the recent rival conventions at Chicago, and con- 
trasted with them the coming together of a body like 
that wliich meets i"' Madison this j^ear. He spoke 
of the wonderful progress of our country despite 
storms, droughts, plagues, mis-legislation, riots, etc., 
and said that Wisconsin alone had advanced more, 
educationally, since 1848, her admission year, than 
Spain and Italy combined had for centuries. He 
spoke next of American citizenship : no difference 
in rank, no subject, no slave ; then of immigration, 



14 NOT AT HOME. 

which is not a detriment, because of the influence of 
schools and churches (not the Church). The danger 
of unlimited immigration was noted. He referred 
to the Chinese plank in both platforms, and said that 
external force for the preservation of peace is not 
consistent with our theory and form of government. 
Lender's orcliestra followed witli the stirring quar- 
tette, ''In glad Song," beginning, " Raise loud on 
high your mingled voices," etc., and we adjourned 
to meet to-morrow at 9 a. m., at which time we hold 
the opening session, listen to addresses of welcome, 
and responses, and President Thomas Bicknell's 
annual address. 

To-morrow I'll visit the exhibition rooms and tell 
you in my next what I see. When our party makes 
the planned excursion over and about the city I 
shall have something else to Avrite. At present our 
views of the city have been such as could be obtained 
through tired eyes from train and omnibus on our way 
in. Thursday evening the Governor gives a grand 
public reception. The weather is extremely cool 
and delightful, and every one is in fine spirits. 

Impressions of a Pketty Northern City. — A Lake 
Excursion. 

I WONDER if the Caliph's Garden of Delight was 
more delightful than was the Capitol park this 
morning, when the 5,000 assembled at 9 o'clock to 
hear the address of welcome. The statel}^ building, 
the gleaming tents, the myriads of streaming flags 
and festoons, the gayly-dressed and ever-cliauging 
throng, the shade trees nnd restless fountain — all 



LETTERS FBOM iV/SCONSlK 15 

combined to form a scene ga}' antl imposing. Long 
before the exeicises began the band discoursed most 
delightful music from the grand stand on the east 
side of the Capitol ; and with melody in my ears and 
sunshine over head, separated for the moment from 
our party, I leaned over the basin of the fountain and 
named it— to please the passing whim — Hippocrene, 
though I hasten to add that I did not drink there- 
from. Forgetting at once the throng and the occa- 
sion, I thought — 

" What a clay 
To sun me and do nothing! Nay, I think 
Merely to bask and ripen is sometimes 
The student's wiser business." 

But no such unheard-of privilege during a week 
like this ; and soon the president's hammer called us 
to the stand to witness the formal opening of the N. 
T. A. Eev. C. H. Eichards,LL. D., lead in prayer, 
after which his excellency. Governor J. M. Rusk, 
Mayor Stevens, General Fairchild, Assistant State 
Superintendent Chandler, and Dr. John Bascomb, of 
Wisconsin University, made short addresses of wel- 
come, happy combinations of cordiality, wit and good 
humor ; and most heartily were we welcomed to 
State, county, and city. No less interesting were the 
responses made by President Bicknell, Dr. D. B. 
Ilagar, Dr. Richards, first President of the Associa- 
tion, Hon. J. L. Picard, of Iowa, one of the Associ- 
ation's "godfathers," Dr. E. E. White, of Ohio, and 
General John Eaton, Commissioner of Education of 
the United States. 

President Bicknell then delivered his annual 
address, which we did not remain to hear, as we 



16 NOT AT HOME. 

wished to look over one wingof the exhibition build- 
ing. We succeeded in catching glimpses of AVavd's 
Exhibit of Natural History, the Mechanical Depart- 
ment of Purdue University (Lafayette, Ind.), the 
Palieontological Collection (Rochester, N. ^^.), and 
the display of the St. Louis Training School. While 
making the tour of these places we were joined by 
Superintendent Wilcox, of Beloit, Kansas, Professor 
Greenwood, of Kansas Cit}^, and Professor H. B. 
Norton, of San Jose, California. 

There are twenty-two delegates from Kansas, 
eleven of which are furnished by the State Normal. 
Arkansas has fifty representatives, while Kentucky 
boasts of two hundred. But Iowa carries off the 
palm with her five hundred. 

This afternoon our party selected from the six or 
seven meetings of departments in session that of the 
Froebel Institute, and right royally were we repaid 
by the hearing of Colonel F. W. Parker's masterly 
address, "The Conflict of Two Ideals." It is by 
far the best address to which we have listened ; but, 
though I have a faithful outline, I must omit it for 
a brief account of our excursion on the lake. 

President Taylor came up in the evening to say 
that the steamer would leave in about fifteen min- 
utes, so we hastened as only Normalitej can, fear- 
ing we would be late. But we were in time — as 
Normalites ever are. Boarding the beautiful 
steamer Mcndota, we were soon 

" Flinging the western waters aside. 
Breasting the billows in conscious pride, 
Rolling the fleecy foam below 
Like wintry wreaths of drifting snow." 



LETTERS FROM WISCONsIX. 17 

Madison is fairly begirt by lakes. Mendota Lake, 
the one on which we rode, is the largest of four, 
being nine miles long by five wide. It lies north- 
west of the city and is connected with its sister 
naiads — Monona, Waubesa, and Kegonsa — by the 
Yahara. Its name, Mendota, signifies " Evil 
Spirits." 

The steamer made a complete circuit of the lake, 
starting up and skirting the University grounds and 
returning via the State Insane Asylum and the blutf, 
from which latter gleamed the torches of an encamp- 
ing party. Shall I ever forget those hours — the 
receding shores, the long track of foam, the fresh, 
keen breeze, the flapping banners, the distant view 
of the city, with the tower of its Capitol flashing 
already witli electric light, the tiny row-boats, the 
songs and merry conversation! Ah, who could 
forget ! 

Some one wished to know who could account for 
the great quantity of dead fish afloat on the lake. 
Fortunately we had with us Dr. Gapen, who came, 
he avowed , for the express purpose of being ques- 
tioned. To this he answered that he had but one 
theory to present — i. e., that the fish, well aware of 
the great quantity of brain food requisite for such 
an assemblage as the National Teachers' Associa- 
tion, had offered themselves a willing sacrifice, giv- 
ing up the ghost without solicitation. 

How the handkerchiefs fluttered as we rounded 
the bluffs ! How clearl}^ and strongly rang — " Col- 
umbia, the Gem of the Ocean," across the waters ! 
And as we neared the pier, with what reluctance we 
sang — 



18 NOT AT HOME. 

" Heed not the stormy winds, 
Though loudly they roar ; 
Watch the bright and morning star, 
And pull for the shore." 

From the " shore" we went home, going by the 
park to witness the grand illumination, which, by 
the way, takes place every night. Two thousand 
Chinese lanterns were depended from wire strings 
in every direction. Ten Van Derpoele electric lamps 
encircled the tholus ; the rotunda, senate and assem- 
bly chambers were alike illuminated with electric- 
ity. The immense throng of strangers and citizens 
promenaded for several hours in the park, made ga}^ 
by countless flags and red, white and blue lights, to 
the inspiring strains of Leuder's brass band. 



Educational Exhibits. — Woman's Meeting. — Gov- 
EKNOK Rusk's Reception. 

Notwithstanding the countless entertainments in 
the various churches and halls, I entered the Capitol 
building for a final glance at the hitherto un visited 
exhibits. The rotunda is beautifully decorated with 
such mottoes as — " Education is the Strength of the 
Nation," " The Nation : Her Safety lies in her 
Schools," etc., etc. 

Passing in rapid succession the geographical dis- 
play of the Lewis Schools, Boston, C. H. King; the 
Massachusetts School for Feeble Minded, Miss L. L. 
Moulton ; the Illinois department, and the display 
of one of the State Normals of Wisconsin, whose 
chief attraction was its large clay relief map of the 



LETTERS FROM WISCONSIN. 19 

United States, I entered the door which said, "Iowa 
Exhibition." 

This exhibit proved to be the finest of all single 
State displays, occupying two large rooms and the 
portion of a third. Here I spent the remainder of 
the forenoon, too engrossed to note the time. A 
description of those rooms would fill pages, so I give 
but names: Deaf and Dumb Asylum, Council 
Bluffs— products of its shoe shop and a collection of 
rare engravings; Davenport City Schools — crayon 
sketches ; Oskaloosa High School — herbarium ; State 
Agricultural College — pencil sketch of building and 
herbarium of sophomores; Industrial work of 
Grinnell Public School; Clinton Public School — 
map-drawing and kindergarten woi-k ; Belle Plaine — 
drawing ; Des Moines — extensive kindergarten dis- 
play; Brooklyn Public School — fancy work and 
sewing department ; Creston Schools — examination, 
questions and papers ; Germania Schools, Burlington 
— courses of study and manuscripts ; Ottumwa 
Schools — botanical papers and herbarium; and, 
finally, the State Normal at Cedar Falls — apparatus, 
crayon sketching, stenciled maps, relief maps, and a 
large entomological collection. 

The State statistics, beautifully framed, hung on 
the wall, and above one entrance swung the words, 
" The Mississippi — her shores are empires.'' Words 
to this effect were conspicuous: "Iowa: 300,000,000 
bushels of corn, 188-1." I regret very much that 
time will not permit me to see any more in this inter- 
esting department. 

In the afternoon I went to the meeting of the 
Normal section, where an excited discussion took 



20 NOT Al HOME. 

j)lace over a piiper on ''The Kelation of Psychology 
to Pedagogy,''' presented by W. IJ. Payne, Professor 
of Pedagogics, Ann Arbor. He advanced some 
entirely new theories, and maintained his position 
despite the warm and rapid cross-fire of questions to 
which he was subjected. The points gleaned in that 
two and a half hours will not soon be forgotten. 

I neglected to say that yesterday in the element- 
ary department Miss Susan Crichton, of our Xormal, 
gave an interesting talk on the link between the 
kindergarten and the primary. Also, that our Miss 
Hoxie was a prominent disputant in the art discussion 
in the senate chamber, being fairly in her element 
when she succeeded in completely silencing an 
unfortunate man or two ! 

We have had the pleasure of welcoming to our 
Kansas party Superintendent Smith, of Wyandotte; 
President Fairchild, of the State Agi'icultural 
College, and Professor Wilkinson, new instructor in 
the State Normal. Texas has a delegation of forty, 
headed by Dr. J. Baldwin, President of the Houston 
State Normal. Eeunions of the alumni of many- 
colleges are being held each evening. The telegrams 
from the Kansas convention are eagerly sought and 
read by our party. 

In the evening, from the many other attractions. 
President Taylor selected for us the Woman's meet- 
ing. Miss Frances E. Willard was introduced. She 
spoke for a few moments only, as she had other 
appointments. She spoke on " Relation of Public 
Schools to Temperance." Her appeal was strong 
and touching, and her earnest, womanly, practical 
words won everv h^art in her audience. Miss Eva 



LETTERS FROM WISCONSIN. 31 

D. Kellogg next read a paper on " The Needs of 
American Education." She is a pleasing reader, and 
her article indicated great depth of thought. The 
final speaker was Miss Clara Conway, principal of the 
Girls' School at Memphis ; subject : " Woman in the 
South." She said that woman needs a full, round 
development, the best that can be given her. She 
should be placed beyond want or dishonoring 
marriage. In the South the great need of woman 
is a University; and she appealed to the North for 
help in this particular. She was frequently inter- 
rupted by the most hearty and prolonged cheeiing. 

Leaving the church, our party strolled 'round to 
to the Governor's reception, and some of the party 
availed themselves of the pleasure of shaking his 
hand and partaking of the refreshments. Hundreds 
and hundreds of people thronged the house and 
grounds until a late hour. The number present was 
estimated at 6,000 teachers and at least 2,000 citizens. 
Lender's band furnished most beautiful music, and 
the pyrotechnic display Avas truly grand. I heard 
some one sa}'^ that this week has been a " continued 
Fourth of July." Imagine the crowd, when it took 
one of our party two and one-half hours to move 
from a side gate to the front entrance of the house ! 
Imagine 1,000 gallons of ice-cream and one-half ton 
of cake being consumed in an evening ! 

To-morrow is the closing, the great, the ' ' gala 
day;" open-air meetings, and hall meetings, morn- 
ing and afternoon, with a grand reunion in the even- 
ing. Speeches will be heard from one representative 
from each of the several States. Professor Canfield 
upholds Kansas. Nominations and elections are in 



22 NOT AT HOME. 

progress. F. Louis Soldan, of Missouri, will probably 
be the next President of the N. T. A., and White 
Sulphur Springs, Virginia, most likely the next place 
of meeting. 

Last Meeting of K. E. A. — " Three Words " From 
Each State. 

Chicago, III. 

Every pleasant thing must have an end ; and the 
more pleasant it is, the more regretfully do we look 
to that end. So with the National Teachers' Associa- 
tion. 

Yesterday morning, contrary to my expectation, 
I found time, after procuring my ticket, to look 
through the exhibits of the Indian, Chinese, and 
Negroes' Industrial Schools, the State displays of 
Khode Island, California, Indiana, Minnesota, Mary- 
land, and Pennsylvania Schools (none of which 
excelled that of Iowa), and the great departments of 
books and art. In the morning, also. Professor J. M. 
Greenwood, of Kansas City, read an excellent paper 
on " Kesults of an Elementary System of Education." 

In the afternoon the industrial and normal depart- 
ments held final meetings. At the former meeting, 
Professor Fairchild, of the Kansas State Agricultural 
College, distinguished himself in the discussion of 
" Handicraft in Public Schools." In the latter. Pro- 
fessor H. B. Norton, formerly of the State Normal, 
Kansas, now of California, read a thoughtful paper 
on " Professional Enthusiasm." 

In the evening the great Capitol building was 
ablaze with electric light, and the sweet strains of 
" Ye Merrv Birds " rano- out above the murmur of 



LETTERS FROM WISCONSIN. 23 

the gathering throng — multitude is a better word ; 
for just after the ]')resident rapped for order, a ludi- 
crous message was handed him by a messenger from 
tlie throng below, signed '' H. Rolland and 5,000 
others." So Colonel Parker and other prominent 
speakers were sent to the east steps of the building 
to entertain the luckless cro^vd m the park. After 
prayer, Dr. A. D. Mayo spoke his "Last Words from 
the South." He deplored the great burden of 
ignorance under which the South is groaning, and 
implored Northern aid, by every bond of steel and 
sympathy. 

After Miss Nast's charming solo, Monseigneur 
Capel, the distinguished Anglo-Roman divine, was 
introduced. He spoke of American education as 
compared with Eurojiean education, and strongly 
denied the alleged opposition of the Catholic religion 
to education. The Monseigneur is a fine speaker. 

W. E. Shelden at this juncture introduced a 
resolution expressive of joy at the rescue of Greelev 
and his party ; at the addition to geographical knowl- 
edge gained, and at the planting of the American 
fiag nearer than ever to the north pole. It was 
adopted amid prolonged applause. 

Dr. E. E. White, of Ohio, then read the resolutions 
prepared by the committee. In them were expressed 
thanks to the prominent directing men, officials of 
State and city, for entertainment ; to the officials of 
different railroad lines ; to the Madison papers, the 
band, and everybody and everything which had 
made a contribution to this grandest educational 
convention ever held on the round globe. General 
Eaton, Dr. Moss, of Indiana, and President Bicknell 



21 NOT AT HOME. 

delivered eloquent speeches on these resolutions, and 
they were unanimously adopted. After their adop- 
tion, the president announced that "three words" 
each would be granted .the representatives of States 
and Territories. Of course I shall not attempt to 
quote from each speaker. A few notes will suffice 
to show^ what a hearty " love feast" we had. 

Professor Freman, of the State University, spoke 
for Wisconsin. He said that as there had been no 
speaking done for the past week he was loath to break, 
with sound of human voice, the long silence. But 
had he the tongues of men or angels, or even of 
women, he could not do justice to the occasion. 
Further on he said that hereafter Wisconsin would 
reckon events from the date of this association. 
President Searing, of St. Cloud N'ormal, appeared 
next, for Minnesota. He desired all of his delegates 
to wear their badges home, that the few remaining 
people in his State ma}^ give them further honor. 

Professor Edson represented Iowa, " the Massachu- 
setts of the West," as he called her; spoke of her 
schools, but most of her prohibition, and said that 
when the milleniura sun shall rise, its rays will touch 
the hill-tops of Iowa first. 

Editor W. E. Shelden was introduced for Massa- 
chusetts. He began : " Massachusetts sees Iowa's 
five hundred delegates and goes fifty better ;" where- 
upon a voice from the gallery cried : " What does 
that mean, Shelden? what does that mean?" He 
said that Massachusetts is like the old blind hen who 
scratched so vigorously ; Kansas is like the young 
pullet which follows after, and snatches everything 
the old hen brings to light. 



LETTERS FliOM WISCONSIN. 25 

Montana was represented by Miss Alice S. Nichols, 
who spoke well. Hon. J. B. Shaddock brought greet- 
ing from Colorado, " the youngest, the most modest". 
— " Our Country, Right or Wrong : If Eight, to be 
kept Right ; If Wrong, to be set Right." Miss Sue 
Center voiced Arkansas, the State where " man's 
humanity to man makes countless thousands glad." 

One of the best speakers was President Drehr, of 
old Virginia. He is an ex-officer of the Confederate 
army, and told an interesting story of the darkey 
who deserted when Sheridan was chasing Early down 
the Shenandoah, and who gav^e this report on reach- 
ing home : " The Conf eds is advancing backwards, and 
de Yanks is a retreatin' on to us." 

Clara Conway, whose name is on every tongue, 
arose at the president's call for her own Tennessee ! 
She terminated her terse remarks with a compliment 
to President Bicknell's native State, Rhode Island, 
the place where they have but one way to grow — i. e., 
upwards. V. C. Dibble, for South Carolina, said 
that hereafter " I wish I were in Dixie," would be 
changed to " I wish I were in Madison." Mr. Cowden 
for Florida, said that he and the Oregon represent- 
ative had joined hands across the clasped hands of 
those from Maine and California, and that the act 
was significant. He invited us to meet next at St. 
Augustine. 

When Professor Canfield was announced for Kan- 
sas, he was greeted with hearty cheers ere he had 
spoken a single word. He humorously styled Kan- 
sas " the land flowing with milk and honey, with an 
occasional locust thrown in." He delicately alluded 
to Iowa and her prohibition law, and then held up the 



26 NOT AT ROME. 

inspiring picture of our State with her law a part of 
herself. He said we all still drink — but it is of the 
intoxicating spiritual wine of progress. He invoked 
blessings upon the Nation, State and Cause, and ended 
with an earnest — " God bless you all !" And Kansas 
is no less proud of her representative than he is of her. 

Madison was represented by Governor Rusk, 
whose precious three minutes were all but spent in 
the enthusiastic cheering which his very appearance 
elicited. 

Representatives of the press and of various com- 
mittees having been heard, President Bicknell for- 
mally presented his official gavel to Vice-president 
B. L. Butcher, of West Virginia, for President F. 
Louis Soldan, of Missouri, now absent. The gavel 
has quite a history. The head is made of cherry- 
wood cut from a tree planted by Thomas Jefferson, 
at Monticello ; the handle is of red-wood taken from 
the mountain height of Santa Cruz. 

Hon. Bicknell is elected vice-president ; Calkins, 
of N"ew York, treasurer for the ensuing year. 
Among the names of the incoming vice-presi- 
dents, I noted that of Hon. H. C. Speer, of Kansas, 
and among the counselors that of our mucli-re- 
spected president, A. R. Taylor. The meeting closed 
with three ringing cheers for the hospitable ]ieople 
of Madison, and the singing of " Praise God, from 
whom all Blessings flow." 

The convention has been a perfect success. Every 
debt is paid, and the treasury holds over $(),0(K). 
The number present during the week at one time 
reached 6,000. Madison completely surrendered 
herself to the pleasure and comfort of her guests. 



LETTERS FROM WISCONSIN. 37 

and never has it been my lot to be entertained in a 
more agreeable place than I was at the elegant hcfme 
of Hon. E. S. McBride, on West Carroll Street. A 
vote of thanks, sincere and heartfelt, was given 
our host by our party on the last evening, for the 
week's unmarred enjoyment ; and I for one can never 
forget their thoughtful kindness. 

Miss Hoxie and I came to this city at 4 o'clock, vuh 
Milwaukee. "We had the pleasure of making the 
personal acquaintance of General Eaton and Vice- 
president B. L. Butcher en route. 

Two things I forgot to mention while in Madison 
— /. <?., that I saw " old Abe," the war eagle, in his 
glass case in the center of the rotunda, at the Caj)- 
itol ; and the residence now occupied by Governor 
Kusk was once the property of the famous Ole 
Bull, whose wife was a Madison girl. 

And now, Kansas, our own fair Kansas, my 
thoughts turn once more to you — to home. May 
no ])leasure ever be so entrancing, no spot so charm- 
ing, that I may not say, with true Kansas pride : 

"There's no place like home " 



LETTERS FROM WISCONSIN. 



Verdant wheat-fields stretching southward, 

Fruitful orchards, east and west ; 
Not a spot in all the prairie 

That the springtime hath not blest ; 
Every field a smiling promise, 

Every home an Eden fair ; 
And the angels, Peace and Plenty, 

Strewing blessings everywhere. 

Peace, thine angel, pointeth upward 

Where the gray clouds break away, 
And athwart the azure heavens 

Shineth forth hope's placid ray. 
Look to heaven and to the future, 

Grieve no longer o'er the past; 
Through thy trials, God bless thee, Kansas ! 

See the stars appear— at last ! 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 31 



II.— LETTEKS FEOM NEW OKLEANS. 



" From Land of Snow to Land of Sun." 

New Orleans, La. 

Two mornings ago, and I stood at our little depot, 
Brainerd, watching eagerly for the east-bound train. 
About me were the few loyal friends who had come, 
at that early hour, to see me off — regardless alike of 
the state of the weather and the very sleej)ifying 
eifect of the previous night's calico ball. The dull 
winter sky bent threateningly above, and the wind 
was driving a half snow spitefully before it. Already 
was there snow on the house tops and in the street ; 
on fence, road, and field. SnoAv everywhere — a 
" universe of sky and snow.'' 

Thus only two mornings ago, and now behold the 
changes wrought by a few hours and the broad sweep 
of that wing of civilization, steam ! now, instead of 
snow, I see — but wait. Had you asked me, at any 
time of my life, what places I would best love to see, 
I should have said : In my own country, Florida and 
the Rocky Mountains. However, I was not unwill- 
ing, the opportunity presenting itself, to compromise 
on JSTew Orleans. 

Did you ever think that however long we are in 
contemplating an action, the doing has more or less 
of suddenness about it? So, although I had said for 
two months, ''I ain going South," had canvassed the 



32 NOT AT HOME. 

whole ground with my father, who has been here 
many times, and had taken the trip in imagination 
again and again, the novelty of having actually 
started mingled not a little with the satisfaction to 
which the thought gave rise. 

If I refrain from any description of the country 
through which lies the pleasant route of the Fort 
Scott road, I will say it is because of the presumable 
familiarity of my readers with it. But were the 
truth known, this omission is due rather to the 
conversational ability of ColonelJoues, of Fort Scott, 
whom good fortune had sent to Newton the night 
before. I will say that this road is furnished Avith 
clean and comfortable coaches, accommodating 
officers, and lies through one of the most pleasant 
portions of our State. The drifts in the Flint 
Hills, where we anticipated being detained, proved a 
happy disappointment, though they were piled for- 
midably high on either side. At Reese, where we took 
dinner, I saw for the first time a snow-plough. 

Arriving at Fort Scott I parted from Colonel Jones 
at the Huntington, and after a tedious waiting, was 
driven to the depot of the Kansas City, Fort Scott 
and Gulf railroad known as the " Memphis Shoi't 
Line." Once aboard the crowded train and chance 
favored me again, by pusliinginto the chair next me a 
gentleman who volunteered some valuable informa- 
tion in regard to traveling. He had thrice crossed 
the ocean, and told in an unpretentious way of his 
journeys through England, Germany, and France. 
He had also visited the World's Fair, and gave me 
the card of a good hotel. After he had reached his 
destination, and the snowy, moonlit landscape was 



LETTEUS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 33 

shut from my view by the heavy curtain frost drew 
across my window, a part of the sleepless night was 
whiled by hearing the conductor relate his experience 
in the Confederate army. His life as a " railroader," 
most of which I caught, was none the less interesting. 
He had started from the bottom as grader on the 
very road over which he now runs ; and his account 
of his short "run" in Wisconsin one winter, of a 
wreck where he lay under his tilted engine four 
hours, of how he had often helped to drive six or 
seven coupled engines behind snow-ploughs through 
the high white drifts of the north — all this made me 
look at the man and wonder. The recital had another 
item of interest, from a literary point of view, givQA 
as it was in the brief, abrupt sentences and unadorned 
phrases characteristic of the life of the man. 

So the night passed. We breakfasted at Thayer, 
on the Arkansas line, and here saw the still smoking 
ruins of a hotel and saloon which had burned during 
the night. On the road once more, the passing 
country appeared much broken and heavily wooded. 
Mammoth springs and the windings of Spring River 
are curiously beautiful, but for the remainder of the 
land seen in this State I would have no use. 

But have you noticed the face of nature is chang- 
ing? Gradually the snow has become thinner and 
thinner, until now it is a mere white dust only 
sufficient to heal the mutilated stumps, in part pay 
for the fallen trunks beside them. The ice on the 
ditches is losing its grim hold of the banks, and the 
sun, which stoops to peer into the coach windows, has 
become so ardent that we pull the curtains down in 
his very face. We enter the " Mississippi bottom," 



84 NOT AT HOUR 

where the overflow of the river is iniu'ked on every 
tree. Men are at work m tlie wootis, and they make 
picturesque groups among the trees, together with 
the long wagons and yoked oxen. The roads are 
soft and muddy, and there off among the trees in a 
clearing I catch a glimpse of what must be a cotton, 
field. Yes, I am right ; for there are the shreds of 
cotton left b}" the pickers hanging to the low brown 
plants, looking like flakes of unmelted snow. Soon, 
too, I see the cotton baled for shipping. We are 
running on a tressel and the platforms of the small 
by-stations are built up to it. These little towns are 
dirty, sluggish, and dilapidated. I compare them 
rnentally with our bright, wide-awake, stirring little 
towns along the Fort Scott and Santa Fe, and — 
" thereby hangs a tale." 

State pride in an American is quite pardonable, 
isn't it? Anyway it is universal. I am reminded 
of a story I read in Coiintrus of the World: On a 
certain night the train halted at a small side station 
in the middle of a pine woods in one of the Southern 
States, to pick up a solitary traveler. Before taking 
his seat he shouted into the carriage, "Is thar any 
one lieah from Tennessee?" 

We have crossed the St. Francis River, and almost 
before we realize it, the porter has said "■ West 
Memphis," and we are right in the midst of clusters 
of low houses, while the Mississippi and East JMem- 
phis lie before us bathed in the afternoon sunlight. 
I for one can scarcely refrain from an exclamation 
of delight ; but there is no one to " exclaim " to, so 
I content myself Avith looking. So engrossed am I, 
that I do not notice that our engine has pulled up at 



LETTERS VROM NEW ORLEANS. 35 

the very water's edge, apparently baffled. " IIow 
are we going to get across ?" " Do we have to get 
off ? " anxiously question this one and that of my 
fellow passengers. But I recollect what Josh Bil- 
lings says about silence being the only real good 
substitute for wisdom yet discovered — and hold my 
peace. 

Presently I see, around the curve of the shore, a huge 
ferry-boat, the Charles Merriam, silently make its 
way. It is a gigantic affair, with double iron tracks 
running its full length, and I can but admire the 
dignity with which it swings round to the shore. 

A short delay and our engine backs us swiftly 
on to a side track, as if recoiling at the thought of a 
great, self-conscious engine like it being balked by 
water. Then, as if reconsidering the matter, it 
moves down to the ferry with half the train, leaving 
us to be pushed in alongside. There is another 
delay. The gentlemen step from the coaches and 
walk over the boat. We look curiously from the 
windows into the very heart of the Charles Merriam,, 
while our engine stands glaring straight ahead and 
breathing hard, no doubt meditating on the help- 
lessness of its condition. Suddenly a bell is rung, 
and the long whistle sounds once, twice, three times. 
A little lurch forward and we are off. There is no 
perceptible motion, but we can hear the escaping 
steam and feel the deep labor of the machinery 
below and about us. In an incredibly short time the 
east side is reached, the train is coupled again, and 
with a grateful snort of farewell to the Charles Mer- 
riam we go sweeping into the upper depot. " That 
is my train," I say to the porter who picks up my 



30 NOT AT HOME. 

valise, indicating the one heading south, and lettered 
" Louisville, New Orleans and Texas." He answers 
in the affirmative as he takes the lead, smiling, I sup- 
pose at my endeavor to keep myself master of the 
situation. 

The new train is headed by a nervous little engine 
which manages to stand still until the ' ' All aboard ! " 
and then goes shrieking off through tlie deep-cut 
road-bed like a mad thing. And now ho ! for the 
Mississippi Yalley — the sweet sunny South, of which 
I have dreamed so long ! 

I strain my eyes through the deepening gloom to 
detect any possible change in nature's softened face. 
In vain. The sun is set across the river and a cloud 
has risen out of the west like a wind-blown banner, 
making it difficult to discern aught save the tall, 
ghost-like trees. The moon comes briefly to ni}^ 
rescue ere the cloud enfolds her ; and so, to get some 
ease, 

" I dog her flying form with similes, 
And, like a wisp, she doubles on my sight 
In ponds ; is caught in tree tops like a kite ; 
And in a globe of film all vaporish 
Swims full-faced, like a silly, silver fish." 

Weary at last, I turn away with a half-formed 
reproach in my heart for nature, when she smiles on 
me from the dusky landscape, waves her brown 
hands at me, and seems to say : " Have patience, 
Kansan ; believe me, I have a surprise in store for 
3'ou. But you must wait." And with this promise 
in mind I curl down on the pillow and sleep. I 
dimly remember of waiting a long time at Ticks- 



LETTERS FliOM NEW ORLEANS. 37 

burg for the north-bound through express, of half 
rising to look out upon the lighted depot and the 
vessels lying along the shore. "AVilson! Five 
minutes for lunch ! " is the cry that wakes us thor- 
oughly. We bestir ourselves. Some go out to 
luncheon, but more wait till it is brought in. My 
watch says five o'clock. x\ soft gray mist conceals 
all things yet, and I find myself with attention 
divided between a discussion of the Walkup case, 
betwixt a Mississippian and an old gentleman fi'om 
Emporia, and an animated description of a journey 
to Galveston, by a Yicksburg gentleman in silk hat 
and kids. 

Presently my tormentor, the mist, takes himself I 
know not where, and lo ! the change. Great fields 
of cotton, some still unpicked, intersperse the forest. 
The trees are clad in dark green, with only an occa- 
sional yellow and brown one, mournful monuments 
of gold and bronze amid the emerald. The vast 
" cane brakes " of which I have read, become a 
reality. Cypress, sweet-gum, young palmetto rise 
successively upon my bewildered sight. Little dots 
of log cabins skirt the road. Gardens appear in full 
verdure, and zig-zag rail fences I have seen all along 
look strange to me, accustomed as I am to keeping 
a respectful distance from our own barbed tyrant. 

At Baton Rouge the State House is the admira- 
tion of all. Out into the countr}^ once more, and the 
change goes on. Tlie cotton has all but disappeared, 
and in its stead great sugar plantations stretch away 
to the river. Each plantation looks like a village, 
and a description of one will suffice for all. A long 
brick structure with a tall outside brick chimney is, 



S8 KOT AT HOME. 

I am told, the sugar house. This is surrounded by 
rows of little cabins — homes of the colored tenants — 
each the counterpart of the other, being made of 
either hewn logs or boards set on end, each white- 
washed and with the same dash of green moss on the 
north slope of the roof. A long, low shed in an 
enclosure, for the mules; a swarm of little black chil- 
dren, and the picture is complete. Surround the 
whole with acre upon acre of rich land strewn with 
cane strippings and systematically veined with 
ditches, and you have it. 

Through such scenery are we speeding, the air soft 
and mild, gentlemen with coats off reclining by open 
windows, when the signs begin to point toward the 
approach to our destination. The various railroad 
lines converge, the agents for hotels board the 
train at a little outside station, and we all begin 
to look to our belongings. Our train stops at the 
crossing and gives two or three dutiful salutes to the 
great city before plunging into it. Then it gathers 
itself for the final, rushes to the city limits, past 
clicking switches, and then curves slowly up to the 
platform. The motion ceases. My long journey is 
at an end. And so is my long letter, which I must 
make haste to dispatch. 

A BiED Stoke. — High Mass at old St. Louis 
Cathedral. 

And so I am here—having actually escaped being 
held in the snow drifts, wedged in some wreck, 
swallowed hy the river, and being taken prisoner of 
war bv the fierce hack-drivers and runners for hotels 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 39 

— am here safe in an excellent hotel (La Chalmette, 
St. Charles), although solitary and alone in this vast 
tangle of business and pleasure. Friday I did little 
else than rest and collect m3^self . The weather was 
mild and pleasant, though cloudy, and I was not 
long iu finding the spirits v>diich had prompted me 
to undertake and had been mine throughout the 
long journey. 

When Theseus entered the Labyrinth, he had not 
only Love as his guide, but held in his hand the 
magic thread of Ariadne to draw him back into 
safety. But alas for me, unfavored by the gods! 
I was reduced to the necessity of purchasing a map 
of the city (which I confess was, at' first glance, no 
more to me than a Chinese puzzle), and of sitting- 
down to locate mvself and the different places of 
interest. I found that I am but a short walk from 
Clay's Statue on Canal Street (the principal thor- 
oughfare of the city), wliich is considered the center 
of New Orleans, and from which street car lines 
radiate to all parts. After I succeeded in grasping 
the fact that the upper side of the street is the south 
side and the lower side the north, and that the city 
is in truth a crescent, the map began to untangle 
itself. 

Saturday morning, concluding that I didn't need 
Love, nor the magic thread either, and with a last look 
at some street names and numbers, I started out for 
a short walk. I first stopped in a bird store, where 
I spent some time looking at and listening to orioles, 
canaries, mocking-birds, parrots, etc., etc. It is inter- 
esting to watch the men feed the many birds in their 
charge, and one can but wonder at the adroitness 



40 NOT AT HOME. 

which long practice has given them. I asked a boy 
who was hanging the cage of a ten-dollar mocker 
outside, " How many birds have you V " Oh" — as he 
climbed down to make a courtesy — " we have but one 
hundred and fifty or so here. We have several 
other stores in this city, where we have many hun- 
dreds. I cannot tell exactly, for we are buying and 
selling all the time." 

I next entered Baker's flower and seed house, 
passing between long rows of beautiful plants, many 
in full bloom. In a talk with the genial proprietor 
I heard, in regard to the flora of the South, what I had 
heard often before from Professor Sadler, instructor 
in Botany at the JN'ormal ; but it did not impress me 
then as now. He showed me his gold-fish, the pack- 
ing room, his sidewalk display (a small grove of 
itself), and his favorite, a great white Jessamine. 

By way of the post-office, which is on Canal Street, 
under the Custom House, I lastly visited a small 
picture gallery. From this place I carry the recol- 
lection of several pictures and statuettes, one an 
engraving of the maiden weighing Cupid. There 
is an anxious look in her face, for a butterfly has 
alighted on the other side of the balance, and sent 
Cupid so high that he is looking into her very eyes, 
while he roguislily draws an arrow from under his 
wing. Another is the " Midnight Challenge," a 
noble stag, faultless in form, with head thrown 
proudly back, standing on a commanding cliff. 
Behind liim the old moon sinks as if in awe. One 
of the prettiest statues is of a youth reclming 
against a half fallen log. A nymph has stolen up 
behind him, and with a part of her mist}^ drapery 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 41 

has blindfolded him. She is peering over his 
shoulder with an air which plainly says: "Who 
is it?" 

In the afternoon I concluded I could do no better 
than attend the matinee ; and hence betook myself to 
St. Charles theatre, which, next to the Old P^'ench 
Opera House, is the largest in the city. The interior, 
elegantly decorated in modern style, was brilliantly 
lighted, and the curtain rose, as is the custom here, 
promptly at noon. I was negligent enough to lose 
the first scene, studying the audience and wondering 
how it compared with those who used to greet 
Macready, Charlotte Cushman, Kean, and others 
who, I was told, have appeared on the stage. Then 
I interested myself in the play. It was " The 
World," by the Star Dramatic Company, with 
Joseph Wheelock as " Clement Hunting-ford." The 
stage is the largest I ever saw, and the scenic effect 
was good, particularly moonlight on the vessel's 
deck, the ship on fire, and lowering of life-boats, 
and the raft in mid ocean. Coming out of the 
theatre I found a soft rain falling, and couldn't help 
smihng at the way the people went shivering off to 
their homes. 

This (Sunday) morning by the time I had breakfast 
and some letters ready to take with me, it was after 
ten. " So early ?" queries my hostess, whom I meet in 
the parlor ; " why, I have just gotten up." And I 
find it true that the city as a whole rises late and 
retires late. The electric light and gas are lighted 
as early as four and five o'clock this cloudy weather, 
and one can find the stores lighted at all times of day. 

The Cathedral of St. Louis stands facing Jackson 



43 NOT AT HOME. 

Square, a short ride from Canal Street. This I 
entered a little after 11, and followed the — we would 
call him usher, but here they call him Suisse in French. 
(Somebody told me that, and spelled it for me, but 
don't say so !) The Cathedral is built after the massive 
Sjxinish fashion, and presents an miposmg front with 
its three heavy round towers supported by columns 
and arches. 

The interior is a study. Six heavy marble columns 
on either side uphold the galleries, and continue till 
they are lost in the arches of the frescoed ceiling. 
Among the most noticeal)le of the frescoes are the 
Transfiguration, the Holy Family, and bits illustrat- 
ing passages from the life of Christ. The altars on 
the sides of the inain altar seem to be dedicated to 
some patron saints, and are only a trifle less beauti- 
ful. The high altar is built of different colored mar- 
bles and woods. Above it, supported by columns, 
is a cornice, beneath which is the inscription in Latin, 
" Behold the Bread of the Angels !" Above all are 
the statues of Faith, Hope, and Charity. High 
mass was celebrated, and the music, solemn and 
subdued, accorded well with the place and the soft 
light that fell through the stained glass. I stood, 
unseen, by one of the great columns and watched 
the congregation cross itself and pour out into the 
street; certainly a fine opportunity to observe the 
different types. 

"When I came out the sun was shining. I crossed 
the street and entered Jackson Square. It is cer- 
tamly a credit to the city, with its broad winding- 
walks, well-kept flower beds, and trees and hedges 
trimmed into varied and artistic shapes. In the cen- 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 43 

ter is the bronze statue of Andrew Jackson, upon a 
block of marble which says to all : '' The Union : V 
must and shall be pr served." Of the small statues 
placed throughout the square, I paused before one of 
a youth holding a bunch of grapes over a broken 
shaft twined with a vine. 

This was the most delightful place I had found. 
Here were orange-trees, palms, tigs, lemons, roses all 
in systematic pi'ofusion, and fresh green grass, bor- 
dered with timid blossoms of white and purple. The 
charm was partly in what it revealed, partly in what 
it concealed. Oh, the suggestion, the coquettish con- 
cealment, the fragrant threat of Spring in ambush — 
lying m wait to startle the world with delicious sur- 
prise, and storm even the North with a shower of 
blossoms I 

Tearing myself away with the inward resolve to 
see it again, I came "home" by way of the Levee, 
where I saw the steamer Elward making ready 
for departure. I tarried no longer than for just a 
fflance at the river lined with vessels of all sorts and 
sizes — and came on well satisfied with my forenoon. 
Having dined (if you ever had a French-Creole cook 
you'll know what that means) I spent the afternoon 
w^riting, scanning the daily Tiiiie><- Democrat, and 
conversing with my little French hostess. This 
evening is chilly, and for the first time the fire in 
my grate is really enjoyable. 

Once this afternoon I was attracted to the balcony 
to w^atch a long procession pass. Three gentlemen 
on prancing white horses, a band, a large French 
inscribed banner, douljlc columns of men with 
Hiittering badges of gold nnd crimson, three more 



44 NOT AT HOME. 

equestrians, another band, more silken flags, other 
columns of men, followed by a long line of carriages. 
I look inquiringl}^ at my hostess, who is leaning over 
the iron rail keepmg time to the lively music with 
her foot. " Some French Benevolent Society," she 
says French ! French ! I think to myself, every- 
thing is French ! I wish I could talk French, and 
read French, and write French, and sing French ! 

I am about to turn away, when lo ! I see, in the 
very wake of the gay procession, another of a dif- 
ferent sort, headed by a slow-driven hearse, with its 
silver mountings and nodding black plumes. Ah me ! 
New Orleans is, after all, only a part of our great 
world ; and life here, in one particular at least, is 
like the universal life. " One touch of Nature makes 
the whole world kin." 

Morning in Old French Market. 

To GO away without having seen the French Mar- 
ket is equivalent to not having seen New Orleans. 
Yesterday morning, with this in mind, I started out 
for a look at the mart. It was early. The street- 
sweepers were at work, ice-wagons delivering their 
o-reat blocks of crystal, a curtain of faint mist swung 
from side to side of the street, and everything, as 
Mark Twain puts it, "looked early and smelt 
early." 

'' Where were the news-boys ? " you ask. I'll tell 
you. They are not boys here at all — at least I have 
seen none. They are men, and they seem to have a 
monopoly of the newspaper and boot-blacking busi- 
iiess, Each one stands beside his chair, which is 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 45 

screwed to a little platform and furnished with foot- 
rest, brushes, whisk broom, etc., etc. Around the back 
of the chair, on a fine wire hang the morning papers, 
and he offers the " gem'men " a paper and a '' shine " 
at the same time, with an air so quietl}^ pleasant 
that it would put to shame our loud-voiced Western 
criers. 

Crossing Canal Street at Clay's statue, I entered 
Koyal. This used to be the main street of the old 
town, and the change from American to Creole 
quarters is at once noticeable. The signs and names 
of streets are all in French, and the massive stone 
structures, which no modern adornment can make 
youthful again, appear in dark frowning rows. 
One of these seemed to command attention, so I 
paused. It must have been a Court House or some 
City or State building. It is a melancholy ruin now. 
The columns are stained and shattered, the iron 
railing hangs over the side of the broad steps, twisted 
and rusted, and among the mutilated plaster- 
forms and once beautiful cornices, birds go in and 
out with busy familiarity. The birds get the best 
part of man's estate, after all, don't they ? 

Passmg through the long arch of the police pre- 
cinct which adjoins the Cathedral, I fell in with a 
throng of people going frcmi early mass to market — 
young women with dainty baskets on tiieir arms, 
little girls swinging large baskets between them, fat 
negresses with baskets on their heads, and old women 
gossiping along together. No need to ask the where- 
abouts of the market. It seemed that the whole 
town was going one way. A few more minutes and 
I stood at the main entrance of the celebrated French 



46 NOT AT HOME. 

Market. For the first instant, stunned by the flare 
of g-as and the din of voices which reached my 
ears, I stopped perfectly bewildered. I was in 
the midst of a crowd of people yelling at the top of 
their voices in English, Spanish, French, and Irish, 
and every possible cross among each and all of 
them. 

Is this the resurrection of Babel? I thought; or 
was that entrance marked "Avernus," and am I 
indeed in the place where all hope must be aban- 
doned of ever getting out? This is "confusion 
worse confounded.'^ By and by I worked my way 
to the first opening on the left, and going in found 
that I was in the first of the five great divisions — 
the meat-market. Around every pillar that helps 
to support the roof, wide stands are built. Meats of 
all description, fresh and nicely cut, are displaved, 
and here the noble butcher, to the number of hun- 
dreds, howls in his own particular language the uni- 
versal virtues of his own particular meats. Each 
stand or stall has a jet or two of gas and a fine (?) 
painting of sheep, cattle, etc., etc., in green prairies, 
in most absurd positions. 

Crossing the open space between this market and 
the next, I entered the Bazaar. Here dry goods, 
boots and shoes, china, glassware, toys, are displayed, 
and the venders were fairly making night hideous 
with their hoarse cries over small articles with long 
names. I know more about this market, because in 
an unfortunate moment I was rash enough to pur- 
chase some trifle and had to spend a couple of hours 
practicing different stratagems to elude the vigilant 
vender, who would each time confront me with ; 



LETTLli'6 FllOM AEW ORLEANS. 47 

'■ Pray look at clis, Madam, veiy clieapy — great cuii- 
osit}'-, Madam ; only five cents," and so on ad injini- 
tuiti. When I returned through the Bazaar, I gave 
this stall a wide berth ! 

The fruit, flower, and vegetable markets are in 
two large structures and are the most quiet and pleas- 
ant of them all. Poultry is sold with the fruit, flow- 
ers with both fruit and vegetables. All the fresh 
vegetables known to us in the West appear, all sorts 
of poultr}^, along with green peas, beans, laurel and 
bay leaves, apples, oranges, lemons, bananas, figs, 
and pineapples. I saw apples as low as fifteen for 
five cents, and oranges ten cents a dozen. 

The last division is the great fish market, and it 
would require pages to name the varieties of fish, 
both salt and fresh water, that may be seen. I 
stopped to look longest at the green turtles, crabs, 
lobsters, and the cray-fish making their aimless, pain- 
ful way around tlie large baskets from which they 
are sold. Here the tables are all marble, and the 
settlers mostly Spanish. At the end of this market 
just at this season is much game — wild ducks, geese, 
rabbits, woodcocks, etc. 

Not content with this running glance, I made the 
circuit of all the markets again and again. It was 
all picturesque and novel. Here sat or stood a 
group of Indians near their stands of herbs, they 
only silent in all the din. There a 3'oung housewife 
was trying to determine the qualities of a dressed 
duck. Further on a trio of gaudily dressed negro 
women were cooking their breakfast over a tiny 
stove. Here a number of visitors were being served 
^vith coffee and wafers, and there a woman was 



48 NOT AT BOMB. 

kneeling beside a cradle in the shadow of a stall, 
t]'ving to soothe her babe to sleep. 

I learn that the market opens at 5 a. m. and closes 
at 6 p. M.; that Sunday is tlieu^ greatest day, at 
which time they open at 3:30 a.m. and close some- 
times as late as midnight. You can get anything in 
marketj from a paper of pins to a bed-spread. You 
can have your picture taken, your teeth drawn, or 
your pocket picked — all ''very cheaplv-'' I came 
back by way of the Levee, where I stood for some 
time watching the scene of busy life, admiring the 
throng of ships and steamers, and trying to single 
out the flags of the nations. Across the river is 
Point Algiers, from which ferry-boats come and go 
every few minutes. 

In the afternoon I went up-town (that's south) to 
enjoy the bright sunshine. I walked through Frank- 
lin Square, pausing to admire the life-sized statue of 
the patriot, philosopher, and statesman, and then 
went on up St. Charles Street to Lee's Circle. This 
is a sloping mound about twelve feet high, whose base 
is skirted by a broad shell-walk, and whose summit 
is crowned with a shaft of white marble surmounted 
by a bronze of the Confederate General, Eobert E. 
Lee. The monument, I was told, is 106 feet high. 

"While I was seated on one of the iron seats, to me 
came a woman with an open letter in her hand, 
desiring me to read it for her. "Wondering, I com- 
plied. She cried a little, for it was from her hus- 
band, who was far away. Soon she thanked me and 
went her way. and I slowly retraced my steps, pon- 
dering the question of compulsory education, and 
the few blisses which io-norance has for its votaries. 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 49 

Destruction of Pompeii — An out-door Drama. 

It is quite impossible to be lonely or even alone 
here, isolated as I fancied myself. 

My host and his family are very kind. "You 
must see the 'Destruction of Pompeii,' which is 
given at the exposition grounds after night ; you 
must see the West End and Spanish Fort, and we 
will take you with us." This, since they know I 
belong to the Republican family. So I find myself 
one of a small circle of acquaintances, ^^ro temjpo, to 
which one and another add themselves as the days 
speed by. 

A drive to the exposition grounds, for nearly four 
miles up the broad and well-lighted St. Charles Street, 
is a pleasant one, and if by failing to come last 3"ear 
I missed the better part of the exhibit, what I wit- 
nessed last night goes far toward making up the loss ; 
for neither the Pompeian attraction nor the "Battle 
of Paris" was here last year. Do you wish to wit- 
ness the destruction as it appeared to me ? Yery well. 
Seat yourself before this sheet of water, under the 
"canopy of heavens," be deaf to those everlasting 
ticket-sellers, and lend me your ears, and eyes too. 

P>y the white light of hundreds of electric lamps, 
we behold a scene, calm as it is beautiful— the city 
of ancient Pompeii, with its quaint houses, marble 
columns, and narrow, paved streets. An ample 
green sward is between us and the city. In the 
center is a massive temple, the careful reproduction 
of the descriptions we have so often read. To the 
right is the great triumphal arch, and to the left a 
wreathed altar in front of a smaller temple, where 



50 KDT AT HOME. 

later on a sacrifice is to be offered. About the green, 
several pieces of Grecian statuary delicately pose 
themselves. The water at our feet bends gracefully 
to the left of the city, giving lengthened reflections 
of the vari-colored hghts which cluster along the 
shore opposite us. It is a gala day, and soon along 
the streets come trooping the merry-makers, laughing, 
shouting, and singing. They gather in great num- 
bers on the green, and the sports begin. Here we 
witness a nineteenth-century representation of the 
Olympic games ; but we forget for the time that we 
are else\vhere than before the Campanian city, over- 
looked by grim Vesuvius. The games go on. We 
see the young men contend with each other in 
running, leaping, wrestling, and sparring; and 
dancing girls come forward to conclude the sports, 
fiino-ing flowers as they skip about. 

The first part of the games having been concluded, 
the temple doors are thrown open, and a long pro- 
cession comes forth, headed by white-robed priests 
bearing torches. From one of the streets marches a 
line of soldiers with shining bucklers and short 
swords. These join the procession, and the youths 
and maidens fall in behind. Even the pleasure party 
which has witnessed the sports from the sea, lands 
its slow-moving gondola, and adds itself to the line. 
This is the second and last part of the festival, the 
procession, the sacrifice, and the })ublic banquet in 
honor of the conquerors in the various contests. 
The procession winds up and down the streets along 
the shore, where it pauses for a ])rief action in arms 
by the soldiers, and finally it comes back through 
the triumphal arch and approaches the altar. The 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 51 

< 
music, which up to this tiuie has been quick and 
joyous, now becomes preceptibly softer and slower, 
and you scarcely heed that the procession has coiled 
itself around the altar, where a pale green light is 
burning. 

You are sitting near the edge of your seat, casting 
furtive glances toward the summit of the mountain, 
where a faint pink light Hushes the sky for an 
instant, then dies. The priests have descended to 
the foot of the altar, holding aloft their flaming 
torches. The sacrificial fire burns into a steady 
green light, giving an unearthly appearance to the 
unconscious worshipers. The music sinks to a 
wierd and solemn strain. Instinctively you look to 
the mountain, and lo ! on the crest glows a dull red 
flame, from which volumes of thick black smoke roll 
into the dense air and hang like a cloud over the 
doomed city. The sides of the mountain are all 
veined with fire, and the play of volcanic lightning 
rivets your attention. An instant only, for suddenly 
from the heart of Vesuvius a great column of fire 
rises up — up, bends into a glowing arch, and falls in 
a fiery hail on the roofs and streets and commons 
below. Simultaneously a low, rumbling sound is 
heard, which seems to come from beneath your feet. 

l>ut look ! the scene before us is all confusion. 
The revelers stand transfixed a moment, and then go ■ 
darting to and fro seeking for shelter from the fast- 
falling fire. The grinding noise grows into a hoarse 
roar, drowning the cries of the people and the crash of 
the music. Great buildings shudder from head to 
foot in the earthquake's embrace, and rock and sway 
on their treacherous foundations. The noise grows 



52 NOT AT HOME. 

louder. The fire falls faster and faster. The pillars 
of the temple crumble, supporting- arches give way, 
and the proud structure bows totlie earth. Houses 
are seen in all directions tottering and falling, and 
people seemingl}^ lie beneath the ruins. And now 
begins a displays of fireworks, which for variety and 
grandeur hnds no comparison in all your experience. 
The people about you exhaust their stock of adjec- 
tives, use them again in the superlativ^e, and then 
go back and raise these superlatives "to the third 
power." But you hold your breath till the last ball 
of fire trails into upper air and falls a shower of many- 
colored stars ; till the last spark from the old moun- 
tain has left it cold and dark and silent ; till the last 
tone of the music has trembled itself in silence. 
Then yoli relieve yourself with a long-drawn '' Oh !" 
and, gazing into the sky above and to tlie earth 
below, wonder vaguely if you have been dreaming. 

Before leaving the grounds we took a hurried 
survey of the plan, for future use. From the ruins 
of Pompeii we turned to the left, and passed along 
the front of the Main jBuilding, which measures 1,378 
feet. The front is very imposing, with its three 
immense towers. Have you seen the Crystal Palace ? 
Did you see the Main Huilding at tfie Centennial ? 
Know, then, that tliis one is nearly as large as both 
of those. It covers thirty-three acres of ground, and 
hence claims to be the largest building ever con- 
structed. 

We succeeded in passmg it at last, and turning to 
the right, abruptly, we paused before the art gallery. 
This is a fire-proof structure, being built entirely of 
iron. Forward again, through the gardens to Horti- 



LETTEUH FROM NEW ORLEANS. 5^5 

cultural Hall. We retrace our way to the carriage, 
drive past the Government Building, and are soon 
out upon St. Charles Avenue, with the liorses' heads 
turned toward the city. Can you fancy the impres- 
sion I carried away from this outline view of the 
noble l)uildings, trees, and gardens by electricity ? 
To me it was as if I had passed through the groves 
of Eumenides, or about the enchanted palace of 
Psyche. 

During the evening I was drawn into a discussion 
with a gentleman, one of the true Southern type, 
who smokes cigarettes, speaks French, and drinks 
wine. The subject was prohibition, and of course 
we could not agree. I presume that he thought 
that, being from Kansas, I could take only a 200 bv 
400 view of tlie subject. So, unlike most arguments, 
ours ended where it began, leaving each "of his own 
opinion still." 

It was early when we reached Canal Street, 
giving us still time to see the " Battle of Paris," 
which does not close until 10:30 p. m. In a few 
moments Ave were ascending the spiral stair-case 
leading up to the great panoramic view of the "Last 
Sortie," or the " Battle of Paris," where nature 
leagues with art in its struggle for perfection. " This 
is a gigantic delusion." said my companion, "the 
perfected representation of an imaginary reality." 
I found it true, but was too wrapped in admiration 
for the art and artist to wish the spell broken. De- 
scribe it to you? My perplexed pen falters. lio, no, 
I cannot ! You must see to appreciate. Besides, as 
Victor Hugo says, "there are a few things which 
cannot be described. The sun is one of them." 



54 NOT AT HOME. 

Cemp:teiues of the City. 

The cemeteries of the city are places of melanchol}'' 
interest to the tourist. The soil here being so low 
and wet, the people are forced to bury their dead 
above ground. I am told there is a place outside the 
city where the poor are buried under ground. But 
the graves are dug very shallovr, because water is 
reached at the depth of three or four feet. 

Early one sunny morning I entered the old St. 
Louis Cemetery, on Basin Street. It is enclosed by 
a high moss-grown brick wall, and the multitude of 
Avhite marble tombs — houses of the dead, as it were — 
cr«jwded close together forming only narrow alleys 
between ; the dampness, at once apparent, and the 
])rofound stillness of the ])lace, could not fail to throw 
a chilling influence over the most buoyant of spirits. 
The tombs are either of brick or marble, and most 
of them bear Spanish and French inscriptions. The 
venerable sexton informed me that the cemetery is 
over one hundred and sixty years old, that most of 
the tombs belong to the ancient Creole colonial 
families, and that tombs cost all the way from $100 
to $1,000. 

The most attractive monument is that erected by 
the Italian Society. The niches contain several 
beautiful marbles, one of " Italia " herself, and the 
Avhole is surmounted by the statue of Keligion leaning 
on a cross. Nearby, in the corner, is the private 
burying ground of the Laytons. It is enclosed by an 
iron fence, and surrounded by the most beautiful 
fi:n'ubs and flowers. High on the face of the marble 
fi'ont mav be traced the name of the first buried, and 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 55 

SO on down — the letters growing more and more dis- 
tinct — to tlie gilded inscription of the last, dated 1828. 
Fronting the main entrance towers the monument 
of the Portuguese Society, containing forty vaults. 
It bears the names of its members, and is crowned by 
an image of Silence holding an inverted torch. Near 
it is the lofty tomb of the Societe Francaise, and 
that of the Artillerie d'Orleans surrounded by v. 
chain of cannon. 

From these monuments I turned my attention to 
the private tombs, or, as they are marked, the 
"Tombeau de la famille.'' On these I read such old 
names as Rosseau, D'Yille, Lamarque, Babcock, 
Bernard, D'Larne, et al. These tombs invariably 
praise the virtues of the wife, mother, and sister, 
and the valor of the husband, father, and brothei'. 
One said : " To my beloved wife." '' Her voice avjis 
ever soft, gentle, and low." 

I was struck by the vast number of the men who 
had died on the battle-field, some in the War of 1812, 
and some in the civil war. On the family tomb of 
the Genas I read that one fell in battle in i812; 
further down another had died fighting nobly atMur- 
f reesborough in 1 862 ; and the last inscription was 
" To the memory of Dr. Augustus H. Genas, one of 
tlie founders of the Medical College of Louisiana. 
Died 1878." On the tomb of an infant was traced, 
" She was taken away lest wickedness should alter 
her understanding' or deceit beg-uile her soul." 

Many were so dim and weather-stained that it 
was impossible to decipher them. Here is one of 
the oldest which is yet legible : 



50 NOT AT HOME. 

"Ici rcposcul 

Antoino Bouuabel, uatif d'Cliateauroiix, Fie. 

DecedelaGFev. 1800." 

I spent the entire forenoon picking m^' way among 
the silent houses of this silent city ; and when the bell 
in tlie Cathedral struck twelve, 1 detached a spray of 
green cedar, to remember the place, and turned 
toward the entrance. I followed the walls, which 
are lined with vaults called '' ovens '' — for the reason, I 
presume, that if a vault is needed for another body, 
the coffin of the one within is broken and burned, 
and the bones deposited in the lower vault. Here 
are interred many who were natives of Spain, Itah', 
Saxony, Ireland, etc., and the ever-present cross here, 
as in fact all over the cemeterj^, bespeaks the prevail- 
ing faith. 

The whole cemetery vras strewn with decorations, 
china vases, withered bouquets, half burnt candles, 
and knots of faded crape and ribbon — placed on the 
tombs All Saints' Day, November 1. Several slabs 
bear the words " Victime de 1' 11 oneur,'- marking the 
resting-places of those killed in duels — a practice 
which Progress and Enlightenment have nearly 
stamped out, and we are thankful for it. 



An Early Breakfast.— Sunday in Xew Orleans. 

I arose at 5 o'clock Friday morning, and accom- 
panied' my hostess to ma ket. It was sti 11 dark when 
we entered the street, but the city was astir, and the 
market, which we reached after a short wallv, was the 
scene of busy life, I don't know wlion tlio ]ieopl > 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 57 

hero must sleep. The last thing I hear at night — • 
and that is late enough — is the noise of the street, 
the music, the clatter of hoofs and wheels over the 
stones, and the various untranslatable cries of 
venders. A nd it is only a continuation of these same 
signs of life which greets my waking senses. 

The market to which we went is called Poydras 
Market, for a benevolent gentleman who, dying, left 
large sums of money for the erection and maintenance 
of several charitable institutions. It is built after 
the ])lan of the French Market, on a much smaller 
scale, and is carried on in about the same manner. 
Here I learned a fcAV lessons in marketing, as my 
companion passed down one aisle and up another, 
choosing some crisp, fresh vegetables here, and some 
newly-dressed fowl or tempting fruit there. Behind 
us at a respectful distance came the woman, with a 
large basket to carry the morning's purchases. 
Before leaving we refreshed ourselves at the side 
table with a cup of delicious coffee, made with a 
dripper, Creole fashion. 

After breakfast we concluded to go out to the 
Exposition grounds ; so we took the steam car and 
were soon there. But I shall attempt no description. 
^'oR know just how it is when you are with a party 
tliat goes "for fun"; that hurries through the Main 
Building, to the lake ; flies through the State displays 
in the great Government Building; drags you 
through the alluring Avalks of Horticultural Hall, and 
stops before some magnificent painting or statue in 
the Art Gallery only long enough to pant — " Oh, ain't 
it pretty !" and then hastens on — in fact, one that 
" has a good time," and sees the ridiculous side of 



58 NOT AT HOME. 

everything. To-morrow I shall "slip ofif" and go 
alone. Then I'll tell you what I see. 

Yesterday we went to matinee. It was the Star 
Company, in "The Pavements of Paris." It is a 
most exacting presentation, allowing the audience 
little else, I'or three hours, than a close study ot stage 
and synopsis. Like " Les Miserables," it gives 
glimpses into high and low life of the French capital. 
Two things impressed me: First, " De Flachon's " 
laughably pathetic apostrophe to the five-franc piece; 
and, second, Minnie Monk's utterance of the words, 
''Dead! dead! dead!" when as " Comtesse De 
Lannay" she hears of her daughter's death. Tl e 
artistic inflections of surprise, anguish, and (les})ai- 
which she gives each time she pronounces the ^\()Y^\ 
together with the impressive gestures, make one loolc 
a second time at the actress when she reapi)e;;ii-. 
The Southern audience is quite demonstrative, ultcii 
interrupting favorites in the midst of their speech. 

To-day I went to church, to the First Presbyteri;;n 
Church, to hear the well-known Dr. B. M. Palmer. 
The church is on Lafayette Square, and has a ])lain 
but beautiful exterior, with a delicate steeple at the 
side, some 200 feet high. Once inside 3"0U are 
impressed with the dimensions, as well as the taste- 
ful decorations. It is 75 x 90 feet, with the ceiling of 
42 feet. 

T listened to some excellent music by a well- 
trained choir, and thei^ to an eloquent sermon from 
the text, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all 
thy heart." And I did not wonder, when he was 
well begun, why Dr. Palmer is renowned — why they 
had said to me, " You must not go away without 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 59 

having heard the Eev. Dr. Pahner." His logic is 
clear and forcible, his illustrations graceful a? they 
are striking, and his exhortation, though brief, the 
model of finished oratory. His idea in regard to the 
insignificance of all the other inventions, however 
niiglity, as compared with thought, is never to he 
forgotten. 

This has been a warm day, bordering on to 
sultriness. The doors leading from the parlor to the 
balcony have stood wide open all day, and the sun 
has been absolutely uncomfortable on the balcony 
this afternoon. There is a merry party out there 
just now, enjoying the music. 

Sunday in New Orleans, for all that I can see, is 
like any other day — onl}'- more so. Indeed, it is only 
by frequent reference to my calendar that I can tell 
when Sundays come. Few business houses close, 
vessels come and go, loading and unloading, the 
resorts are all crowded, there are the usual matinees 
and theaters at all the houses, and what looks worst 
of all to me, the saloons are wider open than ever. 

Why, even the ladies drink here; and board is 
bargained for " with or without wine." I never see 
those of my own sex draw up around the tables in 
the dining-room, and hear them order from the wine 
hst, but I am led to think of the many noble women 
in our own State who are earnestly working against 
this very evil. And on both sides they are mothers, 
wives, sisters, daughters — women. How can this 
thing be ? I do not say that Kansas has found the 
only way out of the difficulty. I admit that our law 
is faultv and its officers too often weak. But I do 
believe that she has climbed to an eminence above 



60 NOT AT HOME. 

the typical Southern State — an eminence higher than 
those of education and industry — and that it is a 
lono: stride toward the ri<?ht. 



The World's Fair — Main Building and Horti- 
cultural Hall. 

The Main Building at the Exposition, as I have 
said, is the largest building ever constructed ; but 
one is not so favorably impressed with the size until 
he passes under the great tower and stands just 
within the main entrance. I couldn't help taking a 
long breath, and thinking, What an insignificant 
atom I am, anyhow! Before me was the arched 
Music Hall, which alone can accommodate 11,000 
persons. To the right of the entrance are the dis- 
plays of the cities of the United States, to the left 
the exhibits of foreign countries. Back of the 
Music Hall the entire length of the building is 
taken up with machinery, and vast galleries begirt 
the whole. 

I first investigated the bit of Chinese scenery 
before me — an attractive advertisement for He-No 
Tea : A miniature sheet of real water, fringed with 
foreign-looking plants and spanned by an arched 
bridge; winding walks among slender plants with 
long drooping leaves, cane fences and bamboo 
chairs. Inside, one of those airy, quaint-looking 
houses, where the keeper poured fragrant tea for 
the visitors. 

I passed to the right among the tasteful city dis- 
plays : A pyramid of blocks of soap, manj^-colored, 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 61 

and sunnounted by an eagle ready for flight ; a tiny 
})alace for the display of wall-pajDers and carpets, 
papered inside and out, and strewn with handsome 
••ugs; an enclosure with all the inventions m minia- 
ture, from the primitive hoe to the latest in electricity; 
iin open parlor for the display of the many musical 
instruments ; a group of Fairbank's scales, all sizes ; 
a ])yramid of Parisian perfumery; exhibition of 
saddlery, Avith a close fence of buggy whips ; head- 
(]uarters of the press, where the leading papers of 
tlie city are represented ; the druggists' display of 
alum and sulphate of copper ; city carriage works, 
wdth everj^thing in that line from a bicycle to an 
omnibus ; display of sewing machines about a 
revolving pyramid of finely shaded silk thread ; a 
mountain of temiDting pickles, cauliflower, etc., etc., 
in glass jars ; a large enclosure for a very exact 
model of Pullman, constructed on the scale of ten 
inches to one hundred feet, and showing streets, 
churches, car works, etc.; an immense bulk of baled 
cotton; display of coffee, from the tiny pjant to the 
steaming cup ready to "make the politici;;u wise"; 
the tents and cannon of the Army of Northern 
Virginia, St. Louis granite iron ware utensils, dis- 
played in the usual pyramid; brick-yard, showing all 
the process of manufacture; display of furniture — 
the richest bed-room set I ever saw ; pyramid of salt 
blocks, surmounted, of course, by the image of Lot's 
wife ; display of shot, with tower ; large glass 
case of the Keversible Collar Company, containing 
the white elephant made of cuffs, with tusks and 
tail of collars; display of fire department, where I 
spent much time. These are the principal city dis- 



63 NOT AT HOME. 

plays, not to mention the Terra Cotta Works, New 
York ink and stylographic pens, and the Brewery 
of New Orleans. 

One may know by the changes of flags over head 
that he has passed beyond the boundary of his 
own country. Venezuela's display of hides, birds, 
medicinal herbs, coffee, woods, and minerals is very 
flne, and attracts much attention. Honduras pre- 
sents three little houses : one enclosed Avith shredded 
barks ; one, the headquarters of the consul, of differ- 
ent woods inlaid, and one of hides. Besides these, 
there are specimens of plants, shells, and birds. 
Italy has her pictures, statuary, pottery, and a 
special display of cameos. Cuba is represented by 
the miniature of a tobacco plantation, which is very 
curious. Japan, among other things, has a sample 
fence of split cane woven together with grass. It is 
very strong. In the Swedish display I could but 
notice the number of articles carved from pieces of 
wood — spoons, plates, shoes, spades, etc. Ireland 
has a trio of genuine shillalies from the original 
black-thorn, and a perfect model, from bits of shin- 
ing silver and gold, of the old, old church of 
Shandon, Cork, a church immortalized by Mahoney's 
tuneful lines — 

" The bells of Shandon, 
That sound so grand on 
The pleasant waters 
Of the river Lee." 

Moving on, I was shown, by an obliging foreigner, 
into the grand double pavilion, consular and diplo- 
matic. It is circular in form, is draped with a cloud 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 63 

of foreign flags, and has at the entrance a detaining 
statue of Dante in his youth. Within, I was shown 
so many things of interest that, had I given each its 
due share of attention, I should still be there: A 
large bouquet of flowers, composed of the silver and 
gold coins of the nation (the flowers are as perfect as 
money can make them, and the whole is a marvel 
of artistic skill); China grass in all its conditions, 
graded from its growing state until it is I'eady for 
weaving ; Persian carpets and rugs, hand-made; India 
cotton, from which a fine, misty fabric is made; 
a heavy table-spread from Germany, every thread 
linen ; a rude African spinning-wheel, which when 
at work shows the natives' method of making cloth ; 
also four bracelets from Africa, pounded out of 
solid pieces of unpolished silver, and quaintly carved ; 
a scanty Persian newspaper, which the news-loving 
American would toss aside in about two minutes 
and a half; samples of rice, maize, seaweed, horse- 
leather, ivory, horn, and plumes from the East 
Indies; Chinese matting, and palmetto hats and 
pouches ; a shelf of books carved from the various 
woods of Central America, so true to nature — or 
rather so true to art — that many visitors, I was told, 
take them down to open them (handling these sealed 
volumes, one notices the difi'erence in the weight of 
the woods) ; bags of grass seeds, all sealed with 
stamps of difl'erent countries ; preserved nutmegs and 
a rare tobacco from Java; pottery from Brazil; a kind 
of paper made of wood, snow-shoes and sleds from 
Canada; some flour made from the Yuca (Central 
America); a sifter, made hy tlie natives, of woven 
grass-blades ; a wooden bowl [uid spoon, for mixing; 



64 NOT AT HOME. 

a board whereon the mixture is spread for hardening ; 
a grater made by sinking crushed quartz into the 
smoothed surface of green wood, and then allow- 
ing it to dry; a long, snake-like matting, through 
which the dough is worked, and, lastly, the result — 
the cake of bread, hard, and actually white; a dis- 
play of the wonderful coral — white coral, brain coral 
(very much resembling the human brain), tree coral, 
and all sorts of beautiful sea-shells. 

Outside the pavilion I looked at some Latin deeds 
and other valuable papers, dated 1377. One of them 
deeded away the half of a house ! 

A walk through the grounds, laid off with flower- 
beds, fountains, and avenues of great moss-draped 
oaks, rests the wearied senses of the sight-seer ; and, 
wandering on and on, he does not awaken from his 
reverie till he finds himself at the entrance of the 
Horticultural Hall. This building, constructed of 
wood and glass, is 600 by 104: feet, and is surmounted 
by a dome 90 feet high. Within, it is the ideal of a 
tropical garden, and he who loiters along the paths 
realizes his most ardent midsummer dream. Green 
grass, crisp and fresh watered, the spreading fan- 
palm of California, the strange-looking travelers' 
tree, half hidden rockeries, groups of tall banana- 
trees full of fruit, the quinine plant (you will please 
excuse me from giving the scientific name !), rustic 
seats near giant cacti, dragon trees, drooping palms, 
dates, the broad Mexican cactus, the Sago-palm, and 
the palm of South America; the century plant in 
four or five varieties, rustic urns and pots of bloom- 
ing flowers — flowers never seen before — all this 
encircled by an array of strange and lovely Mexican 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 65 

plants which are placed along the wall. In the cen- 
tre, restless, ambitious fountains aspire to reach the 
dome, but fall back baffled into a great basin bor- 
dered with specimen rocks and plants, from the 
midst of which leap slender columns of water at 
close intervals. Such is Horticultural Hall at the 
Exposition — a garden fit for the gods, the favorite 
haunt of Queen Flora in the " Crescent City, King- 
dom of Flowers." 

The State Displays. — Woman's Department. 

As you enter the Exposition grounds from St. 
Charles Avenue, the Government and States' Build- 
ing is to your left. One word more about the 
p-rounds before we enter for the examination of the 
state displays : The stock arena, stables, and race 
course lie to your right. Further on, and you come 
to a small electric railway, about ] ,000 feet long, 
running from the Government to the Main Build- 
ing, next to a small lake with a stand pipe on an 
island, to supply the fountains. Between this and 
the Government Building, Pompeii reposes in warm 
sunshine — for a Feronia has been there and restored 
her to her wonted beauty. Crossing the avenue 
which leads to the main entrance, and following that 
which runs along the imposing front of the Main 
Building, you stand before the Mexican Pavilion, 
a characteristic structure of iron and colored glass. 
To your left appear the Art Gallery and Horticul- 
tural Hall, and further on the Mexican Barracks sur- 
rounded by beautiful gardens. To your right the 
walks lead down to the wharf, where the Mississippi 
3 



66 NOT AT HOME. 

completes the scene. The grounds contain about 200 
acres, and are known as the Upper City Park. 

Of all the State displays, of course we will first 
notice that of Louisiana, in the center of which is 
reared a pyramid of cane, with the inscription of 
" Protection to American Industries." Among other 
things, are a chair of horn ; exhibit of sillv manufac- 
ture, all stages from cocoon to silk fabric ; Uncle 
Tom seated on a bale of cotton, marble, and a rice 
monument. The display of the different woods is 
especially fine. Besides the hundreds of specimens 
rough-hewn, there is the " House that Jack Built," 
of the woods of certain parishes — a word used here 
instead of " counties " — and an inlaid table which 
alone contains 4,000 specimens — all w^oods of the 
State. 

And I must mention the old slave-bell, which tra- 
dition says is made 1,000 Spanish dollars melted. It 
used to call together 1 50 slaves on an immense plan- 
tation which had a front of nine miles on Lake Pont- 
chartrain. The old slaves say that on the morning the 
Emancipation Proclamation was issued the bell fell 
from its fastenings and received the long crack now 
to be seen along its side. It is variously inscribed in 
Spanish, and before being broken is said to have had 
a remarkably pure tone. 

In the Indiana display we notice very large tur- 
nips, potatoes, and pumpkins, tiny sacks of specimen 
grains; and dairy products nicely arranged, from the 
'*■ Old Elm Farm," famous for its Jerseys. The 
specimens of wool are also noticeable. 

Mississippi has an awning supported by columns of 
the different grasses, and whose covering is sprinkled 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 67 

witli the various grains. Its ceiling is of snow-white 
cotton hung with yellow oranges. On the floor is 
a large wire cage, the home of a great owl. The 
exhibit of the State Agricultural College is very 
extensive. Just in front of the entrance to head- 
quarters is a fountain which throws up sprays of 
cotton. Here too is a large stump, measuring twelve 
feet in diameter. 

Ohio has a long arbor of corn in the stalls, which 
is hung with cured hams. This leads to a display of 
farm produce and of pottery. Texas's many, many 
specimens of grass are truly surprising. In the cab- 
inet of relics we find an Indian sun-dial, with proof 
positive of its age — 7,000 j^ears. Illinois has pyra- 
mids of salt, coal and woods, a large crib of corn, 
and the usual display of farm produce. Vermont's 
dis])lay of marbles is wonderful. Her other attrac- 
tions are improved dairy and farm implements, and 
the Howe scales. 

Colorado's favorite haunt is the " Miner's Cabin," 
built of gold and silver ore ; also a snatch of moun- 
tain scenery artistically combined, the falls of real 
water, the trees, the mountains, and a noble moun- 
tain ram, pausing as if to look down and wonder at 
the crowd below ere it bounds away up the rocks. 
Here too we find the miniature of a coal-mine, buck- 
ets, shaft, cars, and tiny laborers with pick and 
lamp. 

In Alabama we notice the fine specimens of fish 
and vegetables ; in Tennessee the tobacco ; in Maine 
the ship building and different vessels ; in Dakota a 
stupendous monument of grain, at the foot of which 
are horges and cattle; in Arizona the best display of 



68 NOT AT HOME. 

minerals, shown to good advantage against a back- 
ground of black velvet, specimens of cactus, some 
over twenty feet higli, an Indian mill, and a kind of 
cat caught in the mountains. 

Minnesota has the Falls of Minnehaha as her repre- 
sentative, and lively and graceful they are; while 
Missouri depends for representation on some of the 
floats and wagons which appeared in the procession 
at St. Louis this fall. Of these I need not speak to 
readers of the Globe-Democrat. 

The Pennsylvania display surrounds a glittering- 
temple covered with mica. The exhibit of the 
Baltimore and Ohio Kailway here is interesting. 
There is a model of the " Crab," or "Grasshopper," 
the first engine with coupled wheels run on the road, 
in 1831. Here are the implements used by Carroll, 
last surviving signer of the Declaration, in laying 
corner stone of the Baltimore and Ohio, first railroad 
company organized in United States. Samples of 
the first tickets used are shown, also a section of the 
track itself. Lastly, a model of the first enclosed 
passenger coach, motor power one horse, the driver 
of which to-day runs an engine on the road. 

The Southern Pacific Kailroad takes California in 
its own hands, and a grand display it makes of its 
grand material — wood, minerals, fruits, flowers, 
engravings, and wines — all arranged by an artist's 
hand to the best advantage. Giant trees? Yes, 
indeed. Here, you see, is a cross section cut from 
a tree which was 308 feet high, and 96 feet in 
circumference at the base. And this great block, 
before which you look and feel small, was taken 
from the tree 90 feet from the ground. 



LETTEBH FROM NE]V ORLEANS. 69 

The finest pyramid in the whole building is that 
of Kansas. Its ample base is composed of her small 
grains skillfully arranged. From this the pyramid 
tapers upward to a great height, the sides being 
alternately of white and yellow corn in the ear. 
On the summit stands the "well-garlanded" 
Demeter, smiling down upon the abundance at her 
feet. Her dress is of oats trimmed with flounces of 
millet and straw, cape of rye, fringed with seed of 
the sugar cane, collar and sleeves of corn. In one 
hand she holds her accustomed wheat-sheaf and 
sickle, in the other a banner; and the face from under 
her royal crown of heavy wheat looks as joyful as if 
but just kissed by the glad lips of Persephone. 

Iowa's display, aside from the miniature landscape 
and a representation of grain, is like that of Massa- 
chusetts, chiefly educational ; and her temporary 
school-house contains much that is interesting, and 
shows the progressive spirit of the people led by the 
press and the teacher. 

Each State has a headquarters and a register. 
Then in this building are Government displays, 
naval and war, and there are two other exclusive 
exhibits: the Educational, the chief attraction of 
which are the zoological specimens, and the Woman's 
Department, under the management of the Woman's 
Christian Temperance Union. 

Before the fountain in this last department, many 
are the thoughtless who pause to read the words of 
Frances Willard — " We wage our peaceful war for 
God, home, and native land" — and to wonder if 
woman can do what man lias not done. And here 
thev remain for hours, made thouohtful bv the 



70 NOT AT HOME. 

magnitude and excellence of the work. Ah ! those 
who have gone astray on the question of Woman's 
rights, giving her invariably the wrong rights, will 
find it profitable to examine the great display of 
Woman's industry at the American Exposition, and 
see stamped on everything at least one unquestionable 
right — that of competing with man in every field of 
honorable labor. 

Art Hall. 

I HAVE left the description of Art Hall and its 
treasures until last, because it is fit that the best 
should stand last, and because I seriously question 
my ability for the task. Never have I been more 
tempted to the use of extravagant superlatives than 
when I stood surrounded by the wondrous works of 
artist and sculptor. All around me from canvas and 
marble shone the spirits of the ])ast — the patriot, 
martyr, hero, myth — all the divine studies from 
history, fiction, and fancy. "A room hung with 
pictures is a room hung with thoughts," and how 
can I, without the soul of an artist, translate all 
these beautiful thoughts for you? The multiplica- 
tion-table is said to be the only thing which does not 
lose by translation ; and I sometimes wonder if I do 
not reject better thoughts — wipe them off into my 
pen-wiper, so to speak — than I succeed in putting 
down on paper I 

Art Hall is divided into six compartments, com- 
municating with each other by means of curtained 
archways. The first one is devoted mostly to statues 
and bronzes. Here is David after the combat with 



LETTERS FliOJI HEW ORLEANS. 71 

Goliath, the two pieces Lorenzo De Medicis and 
Julian De Medicis, by Michel Angelo, and Gloria 
Victis, which is a very inspiration. There is a tine 
bronze which no one need tell you is a representation 
of the Dying Gladiator. He has raised himself to 
his elbow, and fixes his stony eyes upon you with 
such an appealing look that you are held fascinated. 
Here is Theseus combating the Centaur, and across 
on the other side is the companion-piece, the Combat 
with the Minotaur. Before the statue of Music you 
are reminded of the story of the famous sculptor 
who, having given the last stroke to his masterpiece, 
stepped back and exclaimed, " There — speak no\v ! I 
know you can." And in this you find excuse for the 
pardonable pause you made to hear the notes of her 
lyre. Side by side wnth his Goddess Music, just as 
you expected, you find the chdd Mozart, tuning his 
little instrument, and, as you move away to leave 
the room, you are detained by a dainty statue of 
Titania in her leaf chariot drawn by squirrels. 

The next room to the right is crowded with relics, 
and it is a long time before you can persuade your- 
self that there can be anything as attractive in the 
other rooms. Two large frames on easels near the 
door contain, the one all kinds of Confederate money 
and stamps ; the other, coins of all nations. Of the 
hundreds of articles really w^orthy of mention, I must 
restrict myself to noting a few only : A piece of the 
rock on wdiich Koger Williams landed at Rhode 
Island in 1836 — on it is engraven a picture of the 
landing, with the inscription, " AYhat cheer ?"— a robe 
taken from the body of an Indian chief after the 
Custer massacre; a bottle of wine put up June 



73 NOT AT HOME. 

17, 1825, at a dinner given Lafayette by General 
Jacques, of Boston ; a Federal flag captured at the 
battle of Shiloh ; a glove worn by Lafayette at the 
ball given him at Castle Garden ; Lady Washington's 
work-box, fan, cup, candle-stick, spoons, and a piece 
of her dinner dress ; also an invitation asking Mr. 
and Mrs. liamsay to dinner, signed by General and 
Mrs. Washington, dated at Mt. Vernon February 23, 
1799; a watch-charm made from the flag-staff of 
Fort Sumter; a string of amber beads made in 
1500; epaulettes worn by General Jackson in the 
battle of New Orleans, 1815 ; a ring of eleven 
generations; very quaint set of emeralds, 100 years 
old ; set of jewels 325 years old ; a doll 31 years 
old which was twice shipwrecked, once crossing 
English Channel, and again crossing the Atlantic ; 
a silk dress 150 years old, hand-painted; a cane 
cut from a black ebony tree at Palo Alto, May 18, 
1816 ; a dress used at the court of England, 1773. 

In the case of books are volumes dated 1768, 
1685, and 1488; one, dated 1728, is entitled, "Views 
of I. Newton on Philosophy." Another is a drama 
dated 1711, and entitled, "A Provoked Husband." 
(So human nature hasn't changed much after all !) 
Another is called " The Entertaining Companion for 
the Fair Sex," 1787. And here is a treatise on 
" Magick," 1658 ; a cane from a piece of the timber 
of " Old Ironsides," 1797; three remarkable sketches 
in pencil, made by a soldier, illustrative of that 
pathetic little poem, " All's Quiet Along the Poto- 
mac"; Governor Derbigny's watch — a plain, open 
face, two slender gold hands, and only the simple 
black figures from one to twelve; spoons, knives, 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 73 

forks, and tin plates, relics of tlie war; case of 
pistols used by Julien Poydras in the duel with Dan- 
iel Clark, Mrs. Myra Clark Gaines's father, whose 
tomb I saw at the old St. Louis Cemetery ; amber 
prayer-beads which once belonged to a daughter of 
Louis XVI.; a collar containing 48,Y86 stitches, No. 
TO Coats's thread; a piece of clay taken from an 
artesian well in 1854, at a depth of 300 feet; dress 
worn at court of Louis XVI.; gold sword in velvet 
case presented General Zach. Taylor by Virginia; 
a chain woven of hair of General Beauregard's 
grandmother ; a JJeur de la jyassion 200 years old ; 
tea-service owned by General Pierre, 182.5, and once 
used by Lafayette; three very old artificial bou- 
quets — one of skeleton leaves, one of wax, and one of 
tiny sea-shells; a spinning-wheel, wedding present 

to , 1Y60. This room is lined with pictures 

of saints, martyrs, and heroes; pictures dim and 
cracked by time. Here every day the visitor may 
see a real, live relic in the person of the aged Jordan 
B. ISToble, a drummer boy of Jackson's in the battle 
of New Orleans. The old fellow is always sur- 
rounded by a group of curious ones, to whom he 
proudly shows his drum, banner, and "papers." 
The visitor in turn listens to his oft-repeated story, 
buys his picture, and usually treats him to a cigar or 
fruit. 

The other four rooms contain seats for the weary, 
are beautified by statues and tropical plants, and the 
walls are completely covered with rare paintings. 
Art has left no stone unturned for a diversity of 
subjects, and here is the grand result — a kaleido- 
scopic variety. 



74 NOT AT HOME. 

Spring beams upon you from canvas, threatening 
to deluge you with flowers. "Lois," the witch, 
young and beautiful, looks hopelessly through her 
barred window across the blue ocean, her whole satl 
story in her eyes. Here is the meeting of Bacchus 
and Ariadne, on the island of Naxos. She is rising 
from a slight slumber, and a look of dazed surprise 
is still on her face. He steps from his chariot drawn 
by lions, and the halo of his divinity shines about 
him. 

"El Dorado"' is a glimpse of California scenery, 
in the foreground of Avhich is a gold-hunter stooping 
over a pan of "dirt" beside a mountain stream. 
The look of mingled delight and satisfaction on his 
face speaks plainer than words. Next to this is a 
}>ainting of Eve lying prone in the garden. The 
attitude of despair and self-abandonment is little less 
than perfect. The artist is French, Leon Ilodebert. 
There in the corner are the two giant trees before 
the temple erected by Jupiter — an oak and a lime, 
Phileman and Baucis, the living monuments of hos- 
pitality. 

Here is the " Cradle of the Hudson," a charming 
New York scene by a New York painter. Near it 
is " Dante, Observing Beatrice at Church." This 
painting attracts much attention ; for no one, I ven- 
ture, can look upon the striking face of Dante with- 
out he — 

" Gazes his fill, and comes and comes again. 
That he may call it up when far away." 

" Bound Out" is a graceful vessel with every inch 
of canvas stretched for the outward voyage. ThQ 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 75 

moon is rising over the dancing waters, and its shin- 
ing path in the ship's wake is the most exquisite 
blending of colors in all the paintings to be seen : 
James Tyler, ISTew York, artist. " All hail — Mac- 
beth!" is the largest picture in the building, and 
must be seen at a distance to be appreciated. It is 
the celebrated scene from Shakespeare, of Macbe a 
and the witches. Here Cyparissos, having acciden- 
tally taken the life of his favorite stag, now moiiiiis 
prostrate beside its body. The sepulchral gloom of 
the forest is finely portrayed, but finer still is the 
mingled grief and self-reproach on the face of the 
youth. 

" Fetch," another painting of the famous dog 
" Jilt," is true as life itself — the quivering bird in his 
firm jaws, the half -lifted forepaw, the intelligent 
gleam of his bright dark eye, and every tense muscle 
of his well-poised body. It would send a true hun- 
ter to the seventh circle of rapture. 

In the paintings of the "'Disputed Prisoner" two 
stalwart soldiers contend fiercely, one mounted, the 
other over the body of his dying horse, while the 
captive, a fair girl in loose robe and sandals, 
crouches terrified in the foreground, watching the 
combat. The artist has given her face such a com- 
mingling of emotions that it is impossible to deter- 
mine which IS uppermost. 

And here is a glimpse of the ragged Ethio])iaii 
coast, and the hapless Andromeda leans like a droop- 
ing flower against the cold, dark rock to which her 
arms are fastened with heavy chains. The sea is 
lashing angrily around her uncovered form. And 
lo! at her very feet rise out of the waters the hor-. 



76 



JSOT AT HOME. 



rid sea-monsters, the instrument of the gods' wrath, 
ready to devour her for a crime of which she is inno- 
cent; but the gallant Perseus comes flying to the 
rescue, bearing the Gorgon^s terrible head. Androm- 
eda's eyes are lifted to her rescuer with such a 
beautiful expression of trust that you wonder more 
and more at the marvelous power of just a brush and 
bits of coloring. What must have been the artist's 
ideal, if this is his power's nearest approach? For 
remember the poet's query— 

"I wonder if ever a song was sung, 
But the singer's heart sang sweeter ; 
I wonder if ever a rhyme was rung, 

But the thought surpassed the meter ; 
I wonder if ever a sculptor wrought 
Till the cold stone echoed his silent thought ; 
Or if ever a painter, with light and shade, 
The dream of his inmost heart portrayed ? " 

Before leaving the place wliere you have spent so 
manv pleasant hours, you go back for a last look at 
that "^ pallid, blood-stained face, shadowed by the 
crown of thorns. You gaze long, for here is more 
than even the artist's soul— and then turn away, 
while that divinely sweet expression sinks deeper 
and deeper into your heart. 

United States Mint.— Slaughter House. 

'^ I'm tired of New Orleans, am sick of the Expo- 
sition and the noise, and the streets, and everything ! 
I never did like the South anyhow. They said 1 
wouldn't have a good tnne. I wish I hadn t come." 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 77 

These are the words I heard the other day through 
the transom over my door, which opens hito the par- 
lor. I have heard the like two or three times before, 
from parties who have tried to see the Exposition, 
French Market, West End, and the Battle of Paris 
in twelve hours, with a boat ride and a matinh 
thrown in, and who, strange to say, return to the 
hotel weary-eyed and foot-sore, to give vent to some- 
thing like the above. As if IS'ew Orleans or Louisi- 
ana or the Southern States in general had any right 
to contain anything that Yankee eyes couldn't '' take 
in " in twelve hours ! The idea ! 

Then there is another class, who grieve over the 
spilled milk of time and money spent, with no return. 
" The Exposition is a humbug, French Market's a 
fraud, and Kew Orleans don't amount to anything ! 
I'd be better off if I hadn't come." I always like to 
look into such a man's face, because it tells the truth 
where his words do not. It invariably says there is 
something wrong within. He is tired, not of New 
Orleans, but of his own thoughts. He may go North, 
or West, or East — it will be the same. How many 
wearisome journeys are taken to get rid of — self! 
But it ever travels with us, " and what wo have been 
makes us what we are." Can we elude our shadow I 
Useless, useless. Ah ! " I pity the man who can 
travel from Dan to Beersheba, and cry, ' 'Tis all 
!)arren !'" 

One morning last week we went out to the United 
iStates Mint, which is open to visitors from 9 a. m. to 1 2 
M. I learned that it occupies the old site of Fort St. 
Charles, and that the great, gloomy building cost the 
(Tovernment over $180,000. Here General Jackson 



78 NOT AT HOME. 

stood in 1S14 and reviewed his army as they went to 
meet the British; and here in 1802, my companion 
told me, Munford was hung in the front yard for 
tearing down the Stars and Stripes from the roof of 
the Mint. 

Within we were shown to the first floor by the 
janitor. Here, having registered, we were guided by 
a young man through this and the upper floors. He 
sliowed to us and explained the eight different pro- 
cesses through A\'hich the silver passes — from the 
great dull-looking "brick," till it was handed to us 
bleached, rolled, polished, and cut the size of a dollar, 
though still unstamped. We spent much time in the 
stamping-room listening to the young man's explana- 
tions — though we had to crowd around him to hear 
his words above the rumble and clatter of the heavy 
machinery, and watching the continuous hail of 
bright warm dollars into the "pans." Some of the 
young men of the party " bought" new dollars with 
old ones, and many were the laughing remarks and 
witticisms which the occasion prompted. 

Taking the street cars we were soon out to the United 
States Barracks, which are at the lower limits of the 
city. They consist of a series of long buildings, sur- 
rounded by a beautiful grove of oak and magnolia, 
and well-kept grounds. The whole is guarded by a 
thick wall of brick pierced for musketry, and at the 
four corners are high brick towers. Several compa- 
nies occupy the barracks, and we left the guai'ds 
walking their slow, monotonous beats outside the 
walls. 

The Slaughter House is situated on the river front 
outside the city limits, and some seven or eight miles 



LETTERS FROM NEYC ORLEANS. 79 

from Canal Street. This, althouoli not a very inter- 
esting place, vras nevertheless our next stopping- 
place. You can form an idea of tlie size of the i)lace 
— ^the pens for cattle, hogs and sheep, the long, long- 
sheds where the killing and dressing are done, the 
open rooms where the hides are cared for, the yards 
where the innumerable carts are loaded for market, 
etc.^ — when I tell you that all the butchering for a 
city of 250,000 people is done here. In our walk 
through the sheds we noticed the dexterity with 
which the meat is handled, the size of the vats where 
the scalding is done ; that at regular intervals streams 
( )f cold water run through the gutters from one side 
of the building to the "other, and that the whole 
floor can be deluged at once. The cattle, they told 
us, are not corn-fed, being most of them from Texas; 
and what I saw could not compare with our average 
beef. 

Behind the little mule with the tinkling bell once 
more, we returned to the hotel by a different route. 
Once we stopped at the " charcoal depot" to exam- 
ine the large basin, the end of the canal from Lake 
Pontchartrain, which enables schooners laden with 
lumber, charcoal, building material, etc., to reach a 
central part of the city. The little crafts and sail- 
ing vessels lay so close in the basin that you might 
almost have crossed on a bridge of boats. A half 
hour or so here among the shouting marines and 
ever-present fruit sellers, among ]iiles of lumber and 
heaps of oysters and charcoal — then the street car 
again, 

" And then to dinner, 
With what appetite you have." 



80 NOT AT ilOMl^. 

The next dtxy I went to the Grand Opera House 
to see " Victor Durand/' It U the old plot of so 
many French romances— an escaped galley slave 
weds a beautiful girl, is detected, recaptured, tried, 
cleared, and " all are haj^py." But no matter about 
a worn-out plot. The acting is line. Marie Wain- 
wright, as the wife of "Victor Durand," is superb, 
ller facial expressions, her very gestures alone arc 
eloquent, while she listens to the story of her hus- 
band's wrongs. The drama throughout is one of 
intense emotion, calling for much aci!/?^^/ and the act- 
ors are fully alive to all that is required of them. Miss: 
Wainwright and Mr. Wheelock were again called 
before the curtain to bow their acknowledgments over 
a choice floral tribute. In the evening we went to 
the Avenue Theatre to hear James Eeiley, the come- 
dian. We found him harsh, almost offensive, in con- 
trast with Wheelock's smooth expression and finished 
acting. But we had to laugh — laugh until we were 
tired, and resolved to settle down and confine our- 
selves to smiling for the rest of the evening. Then 
the curtain ^vould go up again, and Eeiley would say 
or do something too inexpressibly funny to be 
resisted. There would be a rij^ple of laughter from 
parquet to gallery. Some old fellow in front would 
break out into a genuine country ha ! ha ! ha ! and 
away would go our good resolutions. If, indeed, 

" Grief to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt, 
And every grin so merry draws one out," 

I am sure of a few hundred coffins, which, thanks to 
James Reiley, are left in a very shattered condition.. 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 81 

Scene at the Levee. — Depakture of the 
"■ Natchez," 

One morning last week I took a long walk to the 
rear of the city, resolved to see not only the parks, 
and flower gardens, and beautiful residences, but also 
the dark side of IN'ew Orleans. There was a doubt 
in my mind, when I started, as to whether there 
was any dark side to find. Fair city of the river ! 
Could there be else than happy homes, and merry 
hearts, and flowers and music and sunshine within 
her limits ? 

I walked past the depot, past the last structure of 
brick or stone, and then on and still on. And I 
found the dark side — the black side — the narrow, 
crooked streets, the old tottering houses, the mire 
and filth in gutter and door yard, the ilhclad, 
wretched people, the quarreling, the swearing, the 
misery and want. All this I found, and more ; but I 
need not describe it. You can find it too. Leave 
that precious business or the comforts of your fire- 
side some morning, and take a walk to the outskirts 
of your own city. What you see and hear will have 
one effect at least : it will send you to your home 
Aviser, more contented, and ashamed that you ever 
murmured at your lot. Surely, one half a city 
knows not how the other half lives ! 

In the afternoon I didn't go to a matinee, nor the 
art gallery, nor the city library, nor to Lafayette 
Square. I went down to the levee, to look over the 
top of a bale of cotton upon a scene which is all of 
the above combined ; and I didn't pay fifty cents for 
my seat, either. I think you'd smile to see me pick- 



82 NOT AT HOME. 

ing my way among the boxes and barrels along the 
colossal front of the packing-house, or over the 
banana and orange peelings and refuse cotton that 
strew the levee, and all with that hurried, mysterious 
air which says, " Don't stop me. Can't you see 
that I have important business on hand?" And so 
I have. I want you to see the levee at its busiest 
time — Saturday afternoon — and to witness the 
departure of six steamers. The Natchez leaves 
this afternoon, so you'll get to see one of the lai'gest 
and swiftest steamers on southern waters. You 
needn't be afraid. I have a guardian angel down 
here in the form of a great big policeman, whose club 
is a terror to small boj^s, dogs, and idle darkies. 

Here we are at last, and before us a scene which 
almost defies description, because it is constantly 
changing. But quick, now ! We'll take an " instan- 
taneous process" negative of it, and develop the 
picture at leisure. " You don't see anything but 
cotton and sugar, and mules, and negroes, and boats, 
all mixed up together?" Yes, I know. That's all I 
could see at first, and so bewildered and frightened 
that I couldn't have told a darkey from a barrel of 
sugar, if any one had asked me. But by and by 
you find out that no one is paying any attention to 
you, and you begin to see that it's a systematic con- 
fusion after all. 

The levee, you see, is built of very heavy thnber, 
is several squares wide, and is divided into three 
great divisions : that in the centre, at the head of 
Canal Street, is the cotton levee ; to the left, at the 
head of Conti Street, is the sugar levee ; and this, at 
the head of Poydras Street, is the grain levee. At 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 83 

the sugar levee, notice those long, open sheds where 
hogsheads of molasses and sugar are piled the sheds' 
length and up, up. No wonder Louisiana has been 
called the " sugar bowl" of the Union ! 

There at the cotton levee the brown bales are 
piled everywhere. Some of the piles are covered 
with tarpaulins. Those are to remain on the levee, 
perhaps to load some steamer not yet arrived, or 
perhaps to be hauled on the morrow to some of the 
storehouses. Some of it is piled only two bales high, 
and, you see, has little flags of different colors stuck 
here and there all over it. That means that it has 
just been unloaded, and is already assorted by the 
imrchaser. There is a great steamer, which proves 
after unloading to be the John W. Cannon, but just 
now so laden with cotton that little of her is to be 
seen except two blackened smoke-stacks rising above 
her burdened decks. Notice, now ; they have 
reached two groaning "planks" from the levee to 
the uppermost bales. Up one of these moves an 
endless line of panting negroes in shirt sleeves, each 
carrying one of those curious cotton-hooks. Down 
the other '' plank " come rolling and bumping the 
bales of cotton, each guided l)y the dusky arms of 
one of the aforementioned line. At the foot of the 
"plank" awaits another line of men, the foremost 
of which catches the descending bale and trundles it 
off to where the drays are backed in to receive it. 
These drays are twice the length of the ordinary 
wagon, low, very stout, and are drawn by three 
mules, the third hitched by a single-tree to the end 
of the tongue. Watch theui for awhile. Note with 
what regularity those descending bales rise on end, 



84 ^Of AT HOME. 

and fall, to ris^ again, all of them at the same time. 
That man calling so hoarsely and directing the 
workers is the first mate. How soon he detects a 
lagging one ! The men are employed by the hour, 
and he says the "only way to get work onto' niggers 
anyhow is just to keep a cussin' 'em." See how the 
little mules tug and strain to start that heavy dra}'- ; 
how the very wheels creak under that mountain of 
cotton, and how incessantly the driver cracks his 
long whip, or lays it about the shaggy sides of his 
ill-kept, unfortunate trio. 

Well, let us leave them to unload the Cannon 
without us. We can't do anything except to frown 
at the heartless drivers and pity the little mules, 
and the one seems about as much impressed as the 
■other. Here they are putting coffee on board the 
Natchez. Two men stand at the end of each tier 
•of sacks, and as the negroes come down from the 
steamer, they swing a bag of coffee to the shoulder 
of each, and the line turns steadily back to the 
steamer. They are loading her with lumber and 
oranges and baled hay and furniture ; and over 
one plank they are urging a drove of terrified 
horses. Drays and wagons are constantly backing 
into the places assigned them, bringing ploughs, car- 
riage wheels, barrels of the " best Louisiana," wao^on 
tires, bricks, buckets, shovels, and boxes of all sizes ; 
and they come and go so fast, and bring so much, 
that you begin to look over your shoulder toward 
the city, and to wonder what will be left when the 
Natchez is loaded. Besides the hundreds of men at 
work loading and unloading the vessels which line 
the levee as far up and down as 3^ou can see, there 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 85 

are as iiianv, if not more, idle. These are lauffliinw, 
shouiing-, smoking, eating, and talking. Frnit sellers, 
both men and women, thread and crowd with their 
large baskets on their arms. Crowds of small boj^s, 
black, white, and all the intermediate shades, are 
among the bales and other merchandise, eating pea- 
nuts and dodging the policemen who walk up and 
down the levee at regular intervals. Men with smaJl 
books and pencils are hurrying about the cargo with 
a preoccupied air, which says they are unconscious of 
everything save the goods they are classifying. Little 
groups of lookers-on stand back, as we do, to enjoy the 
novelty of the scene, or press nearer to view the water. 
Supposing we accept the policeman's polite offer 
to conduct us on board the Ncitchez f We hesitate 
for a moment. If we go we can see the whole river 
scene, which a wall of closely-packed steamers has 
heretofore shut from our view. We can tell the 
folks at home that we have been on board one of 
the largest of the Mississippi steamboats. And then, 
you know, we haven't been on the water since we 
took that pleasant excursion on Lake Mendota, 'way 
up in Wisconsin, two summers ago. It's too much 
for human nature, so we go, and we are not sorry. 
The kind porter shows us all over kitchen, office, 
the beautiful cabin, with its massive furniture, glit- 
tering chandeliers, great piano, and soft carpet ; the 
negroes' quarters, the wash-room, machinery, state 
rooms, etc., and then leaves us on the '"guards" to 
enjoy the river ; and oh, reader, would you have had 
me leave New Orleans without this? Only think 
of your hesitating about coming aboard! But I 
won't take this precious time to scold. 



8f) NOT AT HOME. 

She leaves at five o'clock, you know. Let us look. 
Here below us lies the Cannon, and a beauty she is, now 
that we can see her. Her cargo is all but discharged. 
Do you know that those large steamboats can carry 
from 5,000 to 8,000 bales of cotton at one load, and 
each bale weighs about 450 pounds ? I heard the 
clerk of one of the steamers tell some gentleman so. 
Above us lie the 11. Ilatma Blanks, the Tennas, St. 
John, and the Guiding Star, of Cincinnati, all with 
their flags flying, which means that they leave this 
afternoon. This side the river is completely lined 
with vessels of every description, and across the 
water, about Point Algiers (now a part of New 
Orleans), lie many, many vessels, either for repairs 
or off duty. The ferry-l)oats, ten in number, are 
ever crossing and recrossing, leaving a track of dis- 
turbed waters in their wake. Little steam-tugs, 
attending strictly to business, are towing coal to the 
steamers. There goes one, a very dirty, unpiratical 
affair, named the Corsair. Pleasure boats and skiffs 
olide hj, or pause to rock and rest upon the sunlit 
waters. Anon a stately steamship, a "stranger" 
bound for an unknown port, sweeps slowly past, her 
sails looking dirty and her huge anchor rusty from this 
close view. Tiny " job-boats,"" the busy-bodies of the 
river, dart to and fro, prying around for something to 
do, and they are not long in finding it. See, the Wasp 
has fastened on to one of those stupid flat-boats, 
which has loaded herself with coffee and then 
waited, in utter helplessness, for the Wasj). Now, 
isn't that just like some people you know ? They 
load themselves down with responsibilities, and then 
fold their hands and wait for some one to draw 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 87 

tliem out into the current. But before we are lialf 
through with the simile the energetic httle Wai^j), 
with arms of steel and heart of lire, has dragged its 
burden out of our sight. 

So the boats pass and repass, as in a dream ; and 
it is all so strange and delightful that you let them 
come and go unnoticed except as in some vision. And 
then there is the dim horizon and the warm sun- 
shine, the .blue sky and the bright water ; and the 
south breeze is so fresh, and it is so cool here in the 
shade! You lean over the guards, yielding to the 
gentle rocking of the boat, look down into the 
water, and are thinking how very delicious it is just 
to be living, when our friend the policeman comes 
to say respectfully, that " We'll be going ashore, 
ma'am, before the rush." We are just in time. The 
bells begin ringing, passengers arrive, trunks, valises, 
and all sorts of baggage are being put on board. 
The planks are all in but the one over which the 
passengers go. The workmen are paid off, and are 
collected a dense crowd on the landing. Carriages 
drive, one after another, to the end of the plank, 
good-byes are spoken, and the ladies and gentlemen 
go aboard. The negroes follow, huddling about 
their own quarters. "Good-bye, Idy," I hear an 
old colored woman say to a half-grown girl, who 
stands wiping her e3^es with a red handkerchief. 
" Sa}^ how-dy to yoah mammy for me, an' tell lier 
nex' time T comes down de ribber Fse gwine to tote 
you back wiv me." 

The clock in the Cathedral steeple strikes five, and 
still the six steamers with the floating flags cling to 
the dykes. You remember what a ladv told you the 



88 iV'07' AT HOME. 

other day — i <?■, that nothing south of Mason and 
Dixon's hne is ever on time. You begin to believe 
it, for it is ten fullminutes before one of them moves. 
Then they all take the notion at once, and such a 
blowing of whistles and ringing of bells ! The H 
Ilanna Blanls sets the example and backs out first 
The Tennas follows ; then the St. John and Cannon; 
but you are watching the Natchez. The mate is the 
last to pass over the plank, and at his signal dozens 
of hands are at the ropes. The pulleys creak, the 
plank quivers a moment, uncertain, and is drawn 
slowly into the air. There it wavers like a great 
balance, as if doubtful, and finally drops with a thud, 
one end on deck and the other in mid-air The 
sleeping giant steam wakes with a start, and a shud 
der runs throughout the steamer's length. Her great 
heart is aglow with fire, her iron nerves throb with 
an impulse to be off. She tugs and wrenches at her 
moorings like a chained creature, but the ropes that 
bind her are unyielding. The smoke rolls blacker 
and more dense from the stacks. The great wheel 
turns, slowly at first, churning the water below into 
foam. There is another signal ; the ropes are 
unwound from the mooring-posts, and with an exult- 
ant whistle she swings out from the levee, trailing 
her ropes through the water. She takes a full front 
view of the landing and city, backs further out, then 
swings slowly around and heads up stream. For a 
moment there is silence. The wheels are reversing, 
and the steamer seems to stand still as if gathering 
herself for the voyage. The captain is pacing the 
upper deck, near the silent bell. Suddenly he turns 
find gives the iron tapj^er a pull, There is a clang 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 89 

from the bell, a quick flash, followed by the boom 
of a cannon, the flag runs clown, the vessel gives a 
glad bound forward, and is off through the rushing 
waters before you realize how it all happened. 



Caerolton and the West End. — More Cemeteries„ 

Carrolton was once a distinct city, just as were 
Jefferson and Lafayette. But now they are all,, 
together with Algiers across the river, within the: 
same limits, and go to make up New Orleans, giving 
a total area of about 105 square miles, with a front 
on this side of the river of over twelve miles. 

We went to Carrolton Sunday afternoon. It Avas 
quite warm, and the shade of the summer houses 
which dot the river bank, and the slight breeze from 
over the water, were truly enjoyable. We strolled 
along the high and narrow embankment, which has 
at one time been a levee, where we could look down 
on the one side upon the river ; on the other, upon 
the quaint, old houses and beautiful gardens of Car- 
rolton. It is quite a resort for Sunday afternoon. 
The whole walk was alive with people, who, like 

ourselves, were there to be rid of the city's noise 

gentlemen with light hats and canes, ladies with par- 
asols and fans ; and children playing near the water. 

In response to my question as to what those irreg- 
ular, water-soaked '' posts " could be, far out in the 
river, my companion explained how the levee had 
once been built out there, then along the bank, but 
how the jealous river had encroached upon the land, 
eating it away, inch by inch, driving each new-built 



90 NOT AT UOME. 

dyke further and further back, until now, instead of 
a well-rounded levee extending into the river, there 
is only a strong current of resistless water rushing 
among the fast-rotting bones of the skeleton of what 
has been. He called attention to the remarkable swift- 
ness of the current near the shore and to the horse- 
shoe-like curve it has already made. He said that the 
landing has been abandoned by steamers and is used 
only by rafts and barges in bringing logs to the saw- 
mill, which we afterwards investigated. We noticed, 
also, how very close some of the houses stand to tlie 
river. 

As the day wore we returned to the hotel to enjoy 
the balcony music. Vou see, the St. Charles The- 
atre is but one door below, and the Academy of 
Music two above us; and every evening the 
bands come out on their respective balconies and 
play alternately for nearly a. hour. 

The balconies up and down on both sides of the 
street are at such times lined with ladies and gen- 
tlemen who come out to enjoy, by the light of the 
moon and electricity, the music of those well-drilled 
bands. This reminds me that Saturday evening we 
went to the Academy to see Benj. MacGinlev and 
Georgia Cayvan in " May Blossom, the Fisherman's 
Bride." There is a healthy mixture of comedy and 
pathos throughout tlie play, and there isn't a weak 
actor in the troupe. And yet one is not satisfied 
when the final curtain falls. The story " doesn't 
end right." There is no poetic — not even prosaic 
— justice about it. 

Just think of a man's untruthfully telling a woman 
that her lover, who has trusted him to tell her of his 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 91 

capture, is dead, and then, after twelve months, of 
his marrying her himself ! Well, the lover escapes 
from prison, comes back, and there is a scene ; but 
he takes himself off, like a good fellow, joins the 
rebel army, and manages to get hnnself killed at 
Gettysburg. The husband, after atoning ('^) for his 
broken vow, his weakness, his stained honor, the 
great Avrong he has done — all by a few years' fight- 
ing for the IStars and Bars — comes home and " lives 
happy to the end of his days." And they expect us 
to make a hero of such a man ! Pleroes are not made 
of such stuff. 

Monday forenoon my hostess and I visited the 
three largest and handsomest cemeteries of the city 
— the Metarie, Greenwood, and Cypress Grove. 

The chief attraction in the Greenwood Cemetery 
is the Confederate Monument, erected by a society of 
ladies to the memory of the Confederate soldiers. 
On a pedestal of fine Avorkmanship stands the mar- 
ble of a soldier leaning upon his gun. Around it are 
the busts of Stonewall Jackson, Polk, Johnson, and 
Lee. This monument marks the resting-place of 
many Confederate soldiers who died in prison tluring 
the late war. The Cypress Grove Cemeter}^ is across 
the street from Greenwood, and is entered through 
massive archways of heavy marble. It is best known 
as the " Firemen's Cemetery," and its most beauti- 
ful monument is that of a broken shaft, which marks 
the resting-place of Irad Ferry, who lost his life 
at a fire. 

Metairie, or Howard Cemetery, is reached by 
passing over the canal bridge. It is circular in form, 
having once been a race-course. The old track ha§ 



93 NOT AT HOME. 

been graveled, and is retained as the main drive. 
The interior, laid off into streets, avenues, parks, 
and lots, and built up as it is with elegant, costly 
tombs — many in the form of marble palaces — 
resembles more a silent, deserted city than a ceme- 
tery. Then there is the receiving vault, built in the 
form of a chapel — an artificial lake, in the centre of 
the grounds, dotted with islands and spanned by a 
foot bridge— summer-houses, rustic seats, avenues 
of tropical trees, and mounds of blooming flowers. 
Noticeable here are the monuments of the Washing- 
ton Artillery and the Army of Northern Virginia, and 
the family tomb of the Howards. Charles T. Howard, 
you know, is president of the Louisiana Lottery 
Company. 

While we were in the Greenwood Cemetery my 
friend proposed showing me a small tomb where 
lies the child of an actress who once stopped at the 
Chalmette. We found it in an obscure spot — a slab 
with the simple inscription, " Ida May Quirk, aged 6 
days. May she rest in peace." While we rested 
there in the shade — for it was oppressively warm, 
with scarcely a breath to stir the thick leaves over 
head — I listening to the sad story of the actress's 
Hf e, as told by herself to my hostess, we heard close 
to us the solemn words, ' ' Ashes to ashes — dust to 
dust." 

Stealing around the corner of a tomb, we, unob- 
served, behold an open grave, at the foot of which 
stood a negro woman, with two girls sobbing at her 
skirts. They were the sole mourners of a husband, 
brother, or father; and none else was near except 
the minister, the man intent on shoveling dirt in 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 93 

upon the coffin, and the unmoved driver on the 
liearse. And we toolv our silent way back to the 
gate, each busy with her own tliouglits ; and some- 
liow that few minutes' gazing around the corner of 
the tomb tlirew a shadow over the pleasant afternoon 
we had planned to spend at West End. But we 
went, and J must try to tell you what a delightful 
resort it is. 

The steam train which we tot^lv follows the new 
canal I mentioned in another letter. On the other 
side of the canal is Shell Koad, a very popular drive 
from tlie city to the lake. And the lake — Lake 
Pontchartrain — what a vast body it appears ! Land 
nowhere to be seen— fifteen watery miles to the 
opposite shore. Why, it was as good, almost, as 
looking over the sea itself! 

The great music plaza is built out over the lake. 
On one side is the Summer Theater, on the other 
side the West End Hotel ; and the plaza is covered 
with little tables, chairs, soda-stands, beer-gardens, 
etc. In the evening the whole is lighted with pow- 
erful electric lamps and reflectors, and nightly con- 
certs are given, when there are dancing, promenad- 
ing, and boating. The buildings and boats may be 
seen of the West End Club, the Southern Yachting 
Club, and the St. John Kowing Clubs. There are 
bath-houses, restaurants, and pretty little summer- 
houses, with seats where one may listen to the 
ceaseless splashing of the fretful waves against 
the wharf, and forget the world in the realm of 
fancy. 

Then there is the walk, which draws the wanderer 
on through the arch and artificial cave; past the 



94 NOT AT HOME. 

flower-fringed basin, with its beautiful gold-fish 
flashing their yellow and scarlet sides in the warm 
sunbeams; between beds of exquisite flowers; past 
urns, and statues, and fountains ; througli " Lovers' 
Retreat," a low, close-woven arbor ; under spreading 
palms, dark-leaved mamolias, bending orange-trees, 
and moss-hung oaks— till, what with the intoxication 
of sunshine all about, music of leaves and waves in 
the ears, sweet perfume to the nostrils, and that 
sheet of boundless water before the eyes — one does 
not realize that he has walked over three miles in 
his circuit of the path, nor that there can be such a 
thing as weariness in this alluring place. 



YisiT TO Custom House and Sub-tkeasury Depart- 
ment. — A Bird's-eye Yiew of New Orleans. 

One of the most pleasant half-days I have spent 
here was passed in looking through the Custom 
House. Thanks to one of the gentlemen of our 
party, I had a letter of introduction to the deputy 
marshal, and him I found very obliging. He con- 
ducted me over the second floor, and explained the 
different offices, the business of each, etc. He then 
left me to the tendei* mercies of a young man who 
conducted me througli the rest of the building, vol- 
unteering more information than I dared ask for. 
Hence I am able to give 3''ou a pretty good history 
and description of this interesting building — with 
all thanks to the proj)er source ! 

The Post-office is on the first floor, and its corri • 
dor alone is nearly 250 feet in length. There are 



LETTERS FROM JS'EW ORLEANS. 95 

several stores and offices also on the ground floor, 
but I did not go through them. 

Ascending the broad stairs leading from the main 
entrance, I could but notice the size of the iron 
columns which support the thick glass skylights, 
and, as I proceeded through the corridors, the clean- 
liness apparent everywhere. We first looked through 
the niarshaPs and clerk's offices, my companion hur- 
rying through, little guessing how interesting it all 
was to me. ''This is Marble Hall,'" he said, as we 
stepped into that elegant apartment. "Here all 
business relating to the city commerce is carried on. 
All those counters are occupied by officers of the 
customs. All vessels must be — " 

But I'm afraid I didn't hear the rest. That hall ! 
Imagine a room 128 x 8-1 feet, with a ceiling of nearly 
60 feet ; a floor set with white and black marble ; 
fifteen snow-white nuirble columns rising to sup- 
port a massive roof whose frame-Avork is gilded 
iron, and whose body consists of plates of thick 
ground-glass ! The head of each column is beauti- 
fully carved with plants, etc. , etc. The panels at one 
end of the room present reliefs of Bienville and Jack- 
son, the founder and the defender of I^ew Orleans. 
Between them is the coat of arms of Louisiana. If 
you can imagine all this, without a piece of wood 
(except, of course, the secretaries, desks, chairs, etc.) 
to mar the effect of marble, glass, and iron — then 
you have a faint idea of the beauty of this famous 
''Marble HalL" 

Who was the architect? The plan was A. T. 
Wood's, but John Hoy was constructing architect. 
The work was at one time under the supervision of 



% Not at home. 

Major Beauregard. Of course, I had to be taken to 
the roof, as all visitors do, to enioy what is said to 
be the best panoramic view to be had in the city. 
We — I, at least, was well paid for climbing endless 
flights of stairs, passing through silent, cheerless 
corridors, and braving the soot and dirt in the upper 
part of the building. " This part of the building is 
still unfinished," the young man said apologetically, 
"and we don't have it swept up here but once a 
week." 

But again I scarcely heard. I was thinking how, 
in the days of the war, these same dreary, unfinished 
apartments were used as military prison cells ; and 
the thought busied me till the last ponderous door 
was s^vung, and we stood out upon the dizzy edge of 
the roof, and gazed down on the Avorld below. W e 
stood on the river side, and now I recall what had 
once been told me, that the Custom House Square 
once fronted on the Mississippi. But the river, as 
generous here as it is miserly up at Carrolton, has 
kept adding to the soil, so that now the Custom 
House must be some three or four squares back, and 
the intervening space is occupied by large and sub- 
stantial store buildings, where once flowed the deep 
river. 

But I did not think of this at the time — the view 
was so absorbing, so picturesque : First, and best, 
the river, sweejiing and winding away to^rard the 
gulf like a stream of melted silver — bending into 
crescent shape at our feet, as if the new moon had 
fallen to grace the earth. The levee, with barrels, 
cotton bales, drays and workmen, looked a very bee- 
hive of hurry and bustle. As usual, it was crowded 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 97 

with shipping from all parts of the world, and we 
could just detect the flutter of undistinguishable 
flags. To the left we could see the Sugar Exchange, 
the French Market, and the Sugar Refinery — ten 
stories high. Further off, the Mint, the St. Louis 
Cathedral fronting Jackson Square, and in the dis- 
tance the United States Barracks, known by its flag. 
Crossing over to the opposite side of the roof, 
we overlooked the old French part of the city : In 
front the tall spire of Christ's Church, the dome of 
the ''Battle of Paris," and the Grand Opera House ; 
to the right, the Hotel Royal and the bulky old 
French Opera House; and far away through the 
trees, the ripphng waters of Lake Pontchartrain, 
dotted with vessels. A gauze-like mist trailed over 
the woods and dipped into the lake, as if morn had 
forgotten her mantle, and left it now, fearful of the 
noon. Our last view was from the Canal Street side, 
and a busy scene, in truth, with hundreds of j^eople 
moving to and fro far below us, each intent on his 
own particular concerns. "That tower with the 
many windows," said my companion, " is the Shot 
Tower ; there is the spire of Dr. Palmer's Church ; 
near it, the City Hall, and above it, the Washington 
Artillery Hall. Here to the right, the heavy build- 
ing with colonnade, is St. Charles Hotel. Further 
up, on tliis side the street, are the Academy of Music 
and the St. Charles Theatre, and between them the 
Hotel Chalmette. On to the right is the dome of 
the Jesuits' Church, the Cotton Exchange, and the 
stand-pipe of the Water Works. In the distance you 
see the Exposition grounds, and beyond them, Car- 
rolton." 



98 NOT AT HOME. 

On our way down stairs again he told me tliat 
the building has already cost more than $-J:,000,00(), 
and its completion will require at least $1,000,000. 
The structure is 81 feet high, with its greatest depths 
309 and 340 feet. It is almost entirely lire-proof, 
very little wood being used in its construction. The 
corner stone was laid by Henry Clay in 1847; and so, 
you see, this great mass has been rising for nearly 
forty years. 

We last visited the United States Sub-treasury 
Department, and we were privileged to enter the 
vault, the ponderous door of which I could not even 
move on its hinges with all my strength. " You are 
in the presence, madame, of eight and a half millions 
of dollars," said the white-haired old gentleman who 
showed us in. " These on this shelf are fives, those 
tens, those twenties, and so on. These in the bags 
are the standard dollar." And he waved his hand as 
if introducing me to some royal personage. " Those 
bags on the floor contain copper, and all that mass 
of metal makes up only $1,400." " Only !" I echoed ; 
and the old gentleman smiled at me over his spec- 
tacles. 

I then registered, and with another peep into the 
spacious marble hall we descended to the main 
entrance, where I thanked my well-informed guide, 
and passed out into the sunshine of the busy street, 
well pleased with the day's gleanings. 

A "FoEMAL Call." 

It is with pleasure that I seat myself to begin this 
letter, for it will have to do with the most pleasant 



LETTERS FROM ]S'EW ORLEANS. 99 

day I have spent in the city. When I set out to find 
No. 172 Johnson Street, armed with a letter from our 
Mr. Litson, it was with the same feeling of hesitancy 
which you always experience when you fancy you are 
about to intrude yourself upon strangers. 

Thanks to the street cars and the system of 
numbering, I found the place readily, and summoning 
up my courage, I pulled the bell. I had tried all 
along to imagine what would be said. Had they 
been informed that I would call ? I would make my 
stay short. I made up my mind, too, that I would be 
"formal," and leave my card, after the rigid custom 
here. But " The best laid plans of mice and men," etc., 
etc., you know ; and, as Beaconsfield says, "It is only 
the unexpected which happens.'" 

I was met at the door by a sweet-faced, pleasant 
lady. " Is this where Mrs. John Eoy lives ?" I asked. 
"It is," she replied; "and you are the lady from 
Kansas whom we are expecting. I am so glad you've 
come !" And she led me into the cosy sitting-room, 
where an old gentleman in slippers was busy with 
pencil and papers. " John," said she, " our yomig 
lady from Kansas is come. You see," she went on, 
" William wrote us all about you ; and we feared you 
had gone home. " And thus talking she carried off my 
hat — and embarrassment — and drew away my 
" formality " with my gloves. 

Had you looked into that cheery sitting-room two 
hours later you would have seen me down on the 
floor examining a chart of the Mississippi, and listen- 
ing to Mr. Koy's explanation of the declivity of the 
river bed, high and low water mai'ks, systems of 
dredging, Eads's jetties, etc. You would liave seen 



100 NOT AT HOME. 

the floor and tables covered with maps, charts, 
pictures, models, plans and sketches, all Mr. Roy's 
own work, and would have found me calling to aid 
my scanty knowledge of arcliitecture and mechanical 
and constructive drawing, in order to be able to 
understand his interesting explanations of the same. 

He it was who planned the Lee Circle of which I 
have already told you. His design was followed, 
with the exception of the bronze which surmounts 
the beautiful marble column. In his model the 
general stands, one hand holding his hat at his side, 
the other upon his sword, which is drawn and rests on 
the square pedestal. This gives the gradual tapering 
so necessary to all monuments of height, whereas in 
the alteration the figure is made to stand, his feet 
close together, his hat on, and his arms folded, making 
up a bulky and unsoldierlike appearance. 

It was he who modeled Christ's Church, designed 
that splendid piece of architecture the City Hall, 
planned the Custom House, Artillery Hall, and tlie 
Exposition grounds ; built three miles of the long 
bridge across Lake Pontchartrain, and is the author 
of several important works on drainage. Why. here 
is a great man, a thinker, a worker — here in the midst 
of this whirl of pleasure and fashion. But it is as he 
said to me : The world is divided into two classes — 
those who think not at all and those who think too 
much. How I love to lose myself in such a man's 
mind ! a strong, self-reliant, working mind : a mind 
which goes not only so far as the ordinary intellect, 
but is lifted up and beyond by the power of genius 
until it catches a glimmer of the great Unknown. Dr. 
Palmer was right. How insignificant are the works 






LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 101 

of man, compared with the mind which calculates, 
designs, creates! 

He showed me a plan upon which he is working — 
a plan for the Grant Monument, which is to be not 
only a National Monument, but a National Pantheon, 
an American Westminster Abbey. They showed me 
books, dated 'way back in the '40s and '50s. He 
showed me his sword and spoke of the war (and she 
gave me a piece of his regimental banner for my silk 
quilt), and I looked through a cabinet of pictures — 
views of Egypt, Nubia, Scotland (for they are Scotch), 
and the South. I completely forgot myself in volumes 
of old English poets and bound numbers of the Art 
Journal. 

And the curiosities, the-quaint old relics, the family's 
coat of arms, with its significant words, " Qua ten- 
dis " — all so interesting ; and the sunset view from the 
balcony looking toward the lake — how I enjoyed it ! 
How the minutes and hours flew, and how surprised 
we were when tea was ready ! 

And then down to the dining-room, where the soft 
light of mingled fire and lamp shone on the white 
cloth, old china, and silver. Under the influence of 
that fragrant tea we spoke of home — of their Scotland 
home, and of mine in the far Northwest. We talked 
of their favorites. Burns and Campbell; of "The 
Cotter's Saturday Night," and "Hohenlinden.'" And 
I said then, as I say now, that I would give — oh, 
what would I not give 1 were I the author of that fine 
inspiration, " The Last Man" ! And then we thought 
of our mutual friends in Kansas, and we talked of 
them. 

All the time I was catching glimpses of the inner 



102 NOT AT HOME. 

lives of these two; and as I saw more and more 
clearly, I could not help thinking — Why, here is not 
only greatness, but something better — goodness ; here 
is peace, home content, and true charity ; charity 
which, "doing good by stealth," would "blush to find 
it fame"; a content which smiles at while it pities 
the world's restlessness, and has only to look witliin 
to find a peace that the world would envy. Poor 
old world, that dotes so much on rank ! The noble 
Scotch poet sounded the very depths of philosophy 
when he said — 



The rank is but the guinea's stamp; 
The man's the gold for a' that." 



I go at last, with reluctance, promising to come 
again, and with several pleasures in common planned 
for the week, 

A long ride through the moonlit suburbs, through 
narrow, crooked streets, then into wider and noisier 
ones ; a turn, a flash of light, a gay, moving throng, 
a burst of music, St. Charles Avenue, and the hotel ! 
And this was my most pleasant day ; this was my 
" formal call." 

A Scrap Letter. 

Being confined to the hotel for a day or two by a 
slight indisposition, I shall have to give you a scrap 
letter, a collection of odds and ends of observation. 

The 3d of this montli was Chinese New Year, 
and was celebrated by the Celestials of the city in 
the usual wav. 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 103 

One of the enterprising citizens is boring an arte- 
sian well in Lafayette Square. He has already 
reached the depth of 1,1 00 feet. 

Minnie Walkup was once a schoolmate of my 
hosts' daughter, " who wouldn't have thought it of 
Minnie!" Mrs. Walkup is at present absent from 
the city. 

If you do not think this is a classic city, hear some 
of the names of the streets: Dryades, Clio, Euterpe, 
Thalia, and Erato. This plan I think much better 
than our prosaic Korthern fashion of naming our 
streets after the letters of the alphabet. 

The Mexican Pavilion, on the Exposition grounds, 
has been purchased by a citizen for a summer resi- 
dence. He paid $10,000. 

There was quite an excursion train from Arkansas 
a week ago. And, by the way, Arkansas w^as 
awarded first premium for the best display of fruit 
at the South, Central, and North American Expo- 
sition. But we all know why — Kansas didn't 
compete. 

They have an excellent fire department here — all 
volunteer companies, who forfeit so much for e very- 
absence from a fire. The contract of extinguishing 
fires is let annually to these "Firemen's Charitable 
Associations." The firemen's parade and ball is an 
event of the year. I have alreadj^ spoken of the Fire- 
men's Cemetery. The city mamtains the fire alarm 
S3"stem m all its perfection. There are i 31 stations 
in the city limits. We heard the alarm the other 
night sound for a far number on Common Street, and 
the response from the company was so prompt tliat 
we stepped from the parlor to the balcony just in 



104 NOT AT HOME. 

time to see the engine flash across St. Charles 
Avenue. 

The 7th was Creole day, and then might the close 
observer note peculiarities of races, gestures, accent, 
etc., etc. But to the readers of George Cable I need 
say nothing, for he has made the Creole his study. 
One thing — I shall re-read '^ Grandissimes " and " Dr. 
Sevier *' with more interest. 

They have more clubs here than in El Dorado. 
The "Pickwick Club" has a membership of 300 and 
a building on Canal Street worth $100,000. The 
" Chess, Checker, and Whist Club " has a member- 
ship of over 1,000, and its elegant rooms are a very 
popular resort. Then there are the Boston Club, 
Louisiana Club, Harmony Club, IS'ew Orleans Fenc- 
ing Club, La Yariete Club, and so on. How lucky for 
the married man who has to " give an account of him- 
self "! He has a club for every night in the week. 

The stone which marks 29 deg. latitute and 90 deg. 
west longitude is nearly in the centre of Lafayette 
Square. 

Mardi gras occurs on the 9th of Mtrch. The 
royal edict is out, signed by Kex himself and his 
lord high chamberlain. '' Stay for Ifardl gras,'" my 
friends are all saying. " You must see our carnival, 
the procession, the illumination ; the maskers, with 
their gorgeous costumes ; Kex, the queen, maids of 
honor, and the dukes of the realm ; the Knights of 
Momus, the Mystic Krewe of Comus; the balls, the 
music, the dense throng, the gayety; the whole city 
decorated with flags, emblems, arches, flowers — oh, 
Avecan't tell you anything about it! You must stay." 
And it is a temptation. 



LETTERS PROM NEW ORLEANS. 105 

The weather has been extremely pleasant since I 
have been here. I go without my wrap every day. 
Sometimes it is quite dusty, in spite of the unceasing 
efforts of the street-sprinklers. The awnings are in 
continual use. The out-door flower-stands, where 
bouquets are sold, are real " things of beauty," as 
also are the stalls of tropical fruits. Yes, the 
Aveather is too warm some daA^s. And how is it with 
you ? Do you find it conducive to your evenness of 
temper to get up and make fires these mornings ? 
Aren't there certain places on the sidewalk where 
you have to walk with care ? And hasn't the mer- 
cury in your thermometer gone down and pulled the 
blanket over his head in despair ? 

There are Smiths even here in this " classical 
city": "A. Smith, Undertaker"; ''Smith & Sons, 
Grocers and Dealers in Liquors"; "John Smith, 
Carriage and Wagon-maker," etc., etc. Lady Mary 
Montague once remarked that the world is composed 
of men, women, and Smiths. 

I have solved the m3'stery in regard to the sleep- 
lessness of the city. One class keeps it awake late, 
and the other wakes it up early, while the first class 
sleeps. Go to any business establishments as late as 
9 o'clock in the morning, and ask for the proprietor. 
You will be told by his clerks and other employees 
that "He hasn't come down town yet. Just be 
seated; he will be here at 10, at furthest." You 
wait, and sure enough he comes presently, in a 
shining carriage, with two well-kept horses, liveried 
driver, etc. 

You shake your head ominously. This is not Chi- 
cago, Kansas City, nor Topeka. And you put this and 



106 NOT AT HOME. 

that together, and think, in your severely practical. 
Western way, that you every day see more and more 
plainly the causes and effects of the evils of the 
Southern manner of living and doing. Here is a 
text for a sermon, a story with a ready-made moral. 
Well, well, we will not talk about the people who are 
treating us so kindly. That would be ungrateful. 

I hear many amusing stories about our State, and 
it is hard to sit still and " grin and bear it." One 
day a week or so ago I heai^d some gentlemen talking 
at the other end of the parlor. They were Mississip- 
pians, I think, and one was in the wind-mill business. 
One of them said, addressing him, "George, why 
don't you take a trip out A¥est, through Kansas, say, 
in the interest of your business ?" The other replied, 
" Yes, I have been wanting to go on a hunting excur- 
sion through Kansas and Indian Territory, I know 
there must be some fine game out there. But my 
business ! Wh};^, bless you, what would they do with a 
wind-mill out there ? It wouldn't stand twenty-four 
hours, with the wind blowing a gale all the time. 
Why, they say the cyclones of wind and sand occur 
every day or so." Then another spoke up : " And you 
know the people — the greater part of them, I mean 
— live in dug-outs, or houses made of sod, for this very 
reason. I dare say there are few nice houses 
through the country. No, George, I don't think it 
would pay." The others kept respectfully qi^iet for 
awhile, silenced if not convinced. Presently one 
said slowly, " Let me see, Kansas is a State now, 
isn't it ?" But I waited to hear no more ; by this 
time I was too full for utterance, and had to go out 
on the balcony to cool off. 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 107 

I have been thinking ever since I have been here, 
how pleasant it would be to see one familiar face. 
And whom do you think I met the other day ? "Why, 
a copy of the weekly Bepuhlican! It told me a great 
deal of home news, and I read it all, even to the 
advertisements. 

And now I must cut off my ''craz}' patch" letter — 
for the very good reason that I am out of pieces. 
You have heard the story told of an orderly ser- 
geant's going to an Irish captain in one of the regi- 
ments of the Union army during some battle, and 
saying, " Captain, we are out of amunition." " En- 
toirely out?" queried the captain. "Entirely out, 
sir." " Then sase firing." 



Moody and Sankey Meeting. — Good-bye to New 
Orleans. 

Messrs. Moody and Sankey have been here since 
the 9th, and they are meeting with the most flatter- 
ing success. After the first day or two it was found 
tliat even the great Washington Artillery Hall was 
not large enough to hold the throng, and that some- 
thing must be done. Every evening the hall was 
filled with ticket-holders as early as 6 o'clock. 
The doors were opened to the public for ten or fif- 
teen minutes, and then had to be closed and guarded. 
So it was decided to hold meetings for the ladies m 
the afternoon and for the gentlemen at night. 

Before this arrangement I went with my host and 
hostess to hear the words of this great man. We 
found the hall brilliantly lighted, draped and f^fj- 



108 NOT AT HOME. 

tooned with hundreds of flags, and already occupied 
by about five thousand people. After the singing 
of several hymns by the choir and audience, and 
prayers by two of the city ministers, Mr. Sankey came 
forward and sat down at the organ. A deep silence 
fell upon the vast throng, which was broken by the 
rich voice of the singer in that tender Scotch song, 
'^My Ain Countrie." After Mr. Moody's fervent 
prayer Mr. Sankey sang another solo, prefacing it 
with a few appropriate words. The song was, "My 
Mother's Prayer," with the sweet refrain — 

" Hush, my clear, lie still and slumber; 
Holy angels guard thy bed." 

Too much cannot be said in favor of such music 
as an aid to the religious services — true music, I mean, 
music at once soothing and inspiring. It is " as a 
voice crying in the wilderness," preparing the way 
for the words to follow. Music can rise and over- 
flow the heart, and find the way into crevices that 
words would never reach. Mr. Moody selected as 
his text the simple words, " Where art Thou ? " and 
treated them in a simple, touching way. Tie divided 
his audience, as the world, into three classes — viz., 
Christians, Backsliders, and the Unconverted — and 
made an impressive appeal to each ; words which 
space and time alone prevent my giving. 

T went again Sunday afternoon, to the meeting for 
ladies only. Again was the great hall crowded 
and again did the evangelist plead long and ear- 
nestly with his hearers. His text was, " God is Love," 
and he spoke words calculated to touch the 
deepest springs of womanhood. Many ladies Avere 



LETIERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. 109 

in tears, and as I passed through the vestibule, com- 
ing out, I saAV a group standing to one side. They 
seemed deeply affected, and stood wiping their eyes. 
"Here," I thought, "are others who have be^n 
moved by his earnest words, and are almost per- 
suaded to go back into the inquiry meeting. How 
encouraged Mr. Moody would be! I will hear what 
they are saying." 1 pressed nearer, and this is what 
I heard : " Wasn't the sermon sweet ? and the sing- 
ing — isn't Mr. Sankey just too nice ? I wonder if he 
is married." 

How encouraged Mr. Moody would be ! 

And now my stay in the South is at an end, 
and the pleasure of the last few days — visits to the 
Spanish Fort, National Cemetery, Algiers, across 
the river ; the» hearing of Fanny Davenport in 
" Fedora," and Janish in the " Princess Andrea"; the 
yatch-sailing, and boarding the French man-o'-war 
— all must remain unwritten. It is with a glad 
reluctance that I leave: reluctant because T have 
not seen half the city, and because of the many pleas- 
ant days I have spent here — glad, because it is bet- 
ter to leave the half unseen than to go away satiated 
and weary, as some tourists do. 

Good-bye to the sweet, sunny land, with its orange 
and magnolia groves, its gardens of rare flowers, and 
its giant oaks draped in mourning moss I Good-bye 
to the mighty river, on Avhose bosom I have rocked 
in restful joy — on whose banks I was born ! 

Good-b3^e to IsTew Orleans, fair favorite of the 
waters ! To the swarming levee, lined with ships ; to 
the beautiful parks, the busy markets, the silent 
cemeteries, the alluring resorts, the noisy streets, 



no NOT AT HOME. 

the lake, the balmy air, birds, sunshine, iiowers! A 
long good-bye to the Hotel Chalmette, to the warm- 
hearted hostess, and my other new-found friends ! 

It is sad — just a little sad — to think of their going 
on their rounds to the crowded theatre, the brilhant 
hall, the pleasant rides and promenades — and with- 
out me. Sadder than all are the thoughts of the 
dear old balcony, with its associations of merry talk, 
music, and moonlight. But however sad, it is none 
the less true that a place made vacant in such a circle 
is speedily filled ; and though I might return, yet 
it would never be quite the same. 

But close on the echo of " Good-b3^e " comes 
a murmur which the roar of steam and the rush of 
water cannot drown — the murmur of " Welcome 
home," from my own far-off State. I have not for- 
gotten that she has just celebrated her quarter-cent- 
ury birthday, nor to wish her "many happy 
returns "; for I grieve in her trials and glory in 
her triumphs. And though she may have for me a 
cold, an icy reception, yet the Spring is not far 
behind me, and I know he will bend a blue sky 
above her, ^rreathe her face with the fairest blossoms, 
and warm her heart with sunshine and gladness. 



LETTERS FROM NEW ORLEANS. Ill 



Home, I love thee better 
Each hour I from thee stay; 

I never knew thy value 
Until I came away. 

— John Horner. 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 113 



III.— LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 



" IIo ! roK THE West." 

Garden City, Kan. 

Beaineed, Annelly, Newton — and the }ast recol- 
lection one has of things familiar, is of the earnest 
faces of the friends outside the coach window as 
they wish you " Good-bye and safe return ! " And 
the recollection lingers long after the train has 
drawn you out under the afternoon sky, away from 
the little town behind the hill, and away from the 
one house of all others which seems to look regret- 
fully upon you from among its dense groves. 

Then the "accommodation" is accommodating 
enough to allow you sixty golden minutes for a 
retrospective view of last hours in the above-men- 
tioned house — ample time for an examination in 
detail of the final scene of packing ; of the mother, 
kneeling to contemplate with anxious dismay the 
yawning valise and numerous piles of articles that 
must go in, and revolving again and again the per- 
plexing mathematical question, " Three into one goes 
how many times ? " 

Of the wise suggestions of the visiting friend, an 
experienced traveler ; of the nieces, eager and inter- 
ested, bobbing about in ever^'body's way with 
hands full, to know^ whether there "wouldn't be 



114 NOT AT HOME. 

room enough for just this?" of the sublime look of 
patient resignation on the expressive countenance of 
the valise, fast becoming too full for utterance ; and 
of the manifest disappointment of emptied perfume 
case or favorite book when the last strap is buckled 
and the formal announcement made that "there's 
positively no room for another thing." 

Ample time for all this, and for the emphasized 
reflection of that self-evident truth — a woman can 
pack more into a liand-vaMse than a man can into a 
two-horse dray ! Sixty golden minutes, and then the 
train overtakes Newton. A transfer of baggage ; a 
little shopping; a visit to the Republican office, 
where I become briefly acquainted with its able city 
editor, Mr. Daugherty ; a wait at the Arcade for the 
local train from the east, and then I greet my 
friend and classmate, Miss Lena Gause, of Emporia, 
who will spend a fortnight with me at Colorado 
Springs. 

Another wait for the 7 o'clock through express, a 
heavily crowded train of nine or ten coaches, and, 
aboard, soon the thrill of motion tells us that we are 
off at last. What better representation, what stronger 
type, has the world — with its grades, finely sifted and 
divided, and its exacting social distinctions — than a 
west-bound express train, with its nice social grada- 
tions from the shabby, dingy, smoky immigrant 
coach, next neighbor to the engine and baggage 
cars, to the last Pullman Sleeper, with its plate-glass 
and rich hangings ? Did you ever think ? 

Once under way we found another fellow-gradu- 
ate — P. J. Galle, of Mound Eidge, formerly instruc- 
tor in German College at Ilalstead, but now a law 



LETTEBti FROM COLORADO. 115 

student at Ann Arbor, Mich. ; or, rather, he found 
us, and we forthwith held a reunion of the class of 
'S3. True, there were some thirty-three of the class 
absent — unavoidably detained — but no matter ; three 
of a class make a quorum any place, and we had 
some pleasant reminiscences. Parting from Mr. 
Galle at Hutchinson, we reached Kinsley at mid- 
night, where, a few murmurs of the telegraph wires 
having made straight the ^vay, we were met by my 
old friend W. S. Hebron, of theKinsley J/(V'c'«//'y, and 
conducted to his pleasant home. Saturday morning 
we had the pleasure of going through the commo- 
dious building in which the Mercury is printed. It 
is an east front. The first room, nicely carpeted and 
furnished, and with solid glass front, is the real estate 
office of Brandon & Hebron. Separated from this 
by low railing with swinging gates, is the editorial 
room, back of which is the long composing room. 
The press rooms are below in a semi-basement, the 
engine being bricked off to its own warm self. We 
talked real estate with Brandon Brothers, discussed 
politics with Editor Hebron, and skimmed exchanges 
with Mr. Williams, the localist. Mr. Williams has 
worked on one of the Augusta papers, admires T. 
P. Fulton's writings, and thinks T. B. Murdock 
prints the neatest paper in the State. 

Mr. Hebron took us to the new Congregational 
church and showed us through lecture-room, choir- 
room, study, and auditorium. The furniture, and 
especially the pijie organ, is very fine. Later, in 
a double carriage, in company with our host and 
wife, we drove over a portion of the city, viewed the 
sugar -mills, the half -completed brick depot, the 



116 NOT AT HOME. 



ley's prosperity. We drove to the fair grounds, to 
the sand hills, over the long bridge beneath which 
the Arkansas sweeps its way southeastward, and 
returned to dine at the Alamo House. 

Boarding the west-bound train at 1:30 p. m. we 
found ourselves in the midst of a merry party, among 
whom were Miss Young, of Sycamore, Gerald Volk, 
of the Topeka Daily Cormnonwealth, and some other 
newspaper " lights," whose names have proven too 
light for my memory, " A fellow-feeling makes us 
wondrous kind," and we were not long in exchang- 
ing cards, bringing the surrounding landscape near 
us with fie. d-glasses, eating fruit, laughing and chat- 
ting, and even punning. " Cards ? " did you ask ? 
Yes, I might have known you'd catch that word! 
Well, if you must know it, there was a queen of 
hearts among us ; but there was nothing played for 
more valuable than the peaches or the privilege of 
riding backwards. 

At Offerle we parted from Mrs. Hebron and 
daughter with expressions of appreciation for the 
royal entertainment we had received in Kinsley. 
At Dodge City there was a noisy click of the turning 
back of surprised watches, and perhaps the usual 
number of ancisnt jokes which a change of time 
would naturally incite. "I've been used to eating 
by the other time, and I'm hungry," " We can all 
live an hour of our lives over," and the like. 

And now we went speeding through a changed 
country ; through prairie-dog villages, through fields 
of oddly short though promising corn — very low 
" walls of corn," as Ellen Allerton gracefully puts it ; 



LETTEm FUOM COLORADO. 117 

past and over long irrigation ditches ; past extensive 
ranches and claims, with their large herds and small 
houses; through infant towns fraught with the 
smell of new pine Imnber, and with the ambushed 
promise of coming county-seat fights ; over vast 
stretches of prairie covered with buii'alo-grass, and 
flowers strange to my eyes ; past " where the ' Star 
of Empire takes its westward way,' on wheels — 
wagon wheels," as Noble Prentis has it. Surely, in 
this 20» > X 40(J sheet called Kansas these few western 
columns are the prose — the " plates," perhaps. " Va- 
riety is the spice of life." You wouldn't expect it all 
to be original poetry, like Butler county, would you ? 
That would show poor taste on the part of its great 
Editor. 

We reached Garden City at 4 o'clock by the new 
time, and bidding good-bye to the lessened party 
in the rear coach, we were driven to the beauti- 
ful residence of Mr. E. jlST. Gause, on St. John's 
and Fifth. After tea we donned our wraps, for the 
evening was quite chilly, and were driven over this 
wonderful city — wonderful because it has grown up 
mostly within the past three years. It has water 
works, street railway, a forty-thousand-dollar opera 
house, broad, level, well-shaded streets, and many 
handsome blocks — one in particular, in which is the 
Buffalo Hotel, built by one of the founders of the 
town, a man of the omnipresent name — Jones. 

In our wanderings near the depot I was surprised 
to meet one familiar to us all^Mr. F. M. Anderson, 
late conductor of the passenger train on the McPher- 
son branch. He too is westwartl bound, and looked 
decidedly unofiicial in citizen's clothes and without his 



118 NOT AT HOME 

nickel punch. AVe spent this afternoon— our hist — 
with our unweariedly attentive host, in the cool east 
parlor, among the poets, attending service in the 
evening at the M. E. Church. And, too, we discussed 
things of interest in and about the resorts to which 
we will go ; for Mr. and Mrs. Gause have but just 
returned from Manitou, and could give us much 
valuable information. 

We take the 1 :20 train to-night ; and as the time 
draws nearer I cease to retrospect. I think of the 
untried journey before me, of the sights to be seen, 
the pleasures awaiting us with Nature and our fellow 
vacationists, 

" As at night aloug tlie dreary highway, near and nearer drawn. 
Lo! I see the Hghts of future, flaring like a distant dawn ; 
And my spirit leaps within nie, to be gone before me then, 
Underneath the lights I look at, in among the throng of men." 

And with such thoughts I sink to a brief sleep, 
with visions of cations, mineral springs, steej) ascents, 
crowds of })leasure-seekers, summer verdure, and 
froAvning mountains, flittiug through my brain m 
vague and dreamlike confusion. 



First Glimpse of the Rocky Mountains. — 
Colorado Springs. 

COLOKADO SpUINGS, COL. 

One o'clock Monday morning, the time set for the 
continuation of our journey, proves to be such an 
hour as well-paid hackmen and young ladies abroad 
in search of adventure alone can brave. The rain 
falls heavily, and the lightning Hashes threatening 



LETTEllS FROM COLOJiAUO. HO 

lines athwart tlie sky. But when Garden City lias 
been left two or three hours to eastward, the faint 
smiles of another dawn greet my sleepless eyes through 
the coach window, and the spent rain-cloud is rolled 
up like a wind-torn banner. At Coolidge, where a 
shortstop is made, I lean dutifully from the window, 
and, looking back over the dingy, outlined features 
of "'my ain countree," re-])! edge my old vows to be 
her loyal subject in tliouglit and word in whatsoever 
land I sti-ay. 

Two miles further we cross the State line, and the 
face of the country is noticeably changed. The 
buffalo-grass has grouped itself together in tufts, 
which look like islands in the sea of sand. Jlerds 
become larger and more numerous. Abrupt hills 
break upon the sight. In the vicinity of La Junta, 
where Ave part company with south-bound passengei's 
and ourselves tend northwestward, a bank of purple 
clouds appears along the horizon before us — a dim, 
hazy, shapeless pile, that grows clearer and more 
shapely, and towers higher and more assuring, until 
we realize, with emotions new and undeiinable, that 
we are gazing upon — the llockies. 

" Pueblo ! Twenty minutes for breakfast !" But I 
look with scorn upon the sordid, worldly, prosaic 
brakeman who thus breaks my revery. Does he 
th'nk that smoke-hidden Pueblo, or a snatched break- 
fast, or an3^thing else can have a charm for one who 
has seen nothing higher than Walnut Hill or the 
bluffs around Arkansas City ? (Especially when we 
expect to see Pueblo again, and considering that we 
have a tempting luncheon with us !) To one who 
has seen only 



130 NOT AT HOME. 

Verdant wheat fields, stretching southward, 
Fruitful orchards, east and west, 

as far as the eye could reach, the first glimpse of 
mountain scenery is absolutely fascinating. And so 
\ve gaze and gaze, all heedless of the fact that the 
A. T. and S. F. has handed us over, bodily and 
baggagely, to the Denver and Kio Grande, and that 
we are curving, and sweeping, and climbing almost 
north ward. For we are looking with silent reverence 
upon the white head of the venerable Pike's Peak. 
And at once there rushes into my mind stories of the 
days of '49, of the wagon trains, of the ever-present 
mover from " Pike county," of the ' ' oxens " — "• Buck " 
and "Bright" and "Tige" and "Golden"; of the 
privation, suffering, and death ; and tlie history of the 
noble though ill-rewarded life of that hero, Zebulon 
Montgomery Pike, for whom this giant peak was 
well named. You "don't remember about him?" 
" Tell you his life, and what he did, and how he lived 
and died, and where he is buried?" ISTo, I haven't 
the space; and besides you ought to know all about 
him, when our own Koble Prentis has told it so well 
in his "Pike of Pike's Peak," delivered before the 
State Historical Society and published ten years ago. 
For two hours we wind in and about, along the 
picturesque D. and K. G., with the Peak looking 
down upon us at every turn, and at 10:20 we step out 
upon the platform at our destination. 

Colorado Springs is a beautiful little city. The 
seemingly interminable streets and avenues are wide 
(l-iO feet or more), and invariably lined with dense 
ranks of the familiar cottonwood and box-elder. 
The continuous blocks of business buildings are sohd 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 121 

and substantial. Some of the residences are marvel- 
ous displays of wealth and taste ; and many cottages 
less pretentious are none the less desirable as homes. 
Few lots indeed are without a well-kept lawn, 
arbor, flowers^ and vines. Colorado College and a 
Deaf Mute Institution are located here. The Opera 
House is neat and tasty. The Antlers Hotel, facing 
the depot, is said to be the finest in the State, and was 
erected recently, at a cost of $1 25,000. Tejon Street, 
the principal thoroughfare, runs north and south, 
while the avenues with like foreign-sounding names 
cut it east and west. 

We succeeded in securing pleasant rooms with a 
private family on Yermijo avenue, fronting the city 
park, which are, I think, much pleasanter than the 
hotels in their present over-crowded condition. 
After rest and refreshments we strayed idly about 
a portion of the city, ''reading signs and running 
against people." We found that — 

" 'Tis Monday morn, and all the world is 
On the line a-drying ; 
So that the seven days' smirk may get its 
Weekly purifying," 

and further, that the inhabitants of this delightful 
resort live, move, and have their being, buy and sell, 
drive bargains, seek pleasure, and fly trouble, much 
as they do elsewhere. 

In the afternoon a cloud comes up over the 
mountains, and it rains. But what matter? The 
water filters through the sand and gravel almost 
immediately, and the cloud disappears as suddenly as 
it comes. The drainage here is the most simple and 



123 NOT AT HOME. 

effective I have ever seen. The city is built on an 
elevated plateau in the valley's midst, level except 
for a gentle south westward slope, whence the water 
is carried by open trenches. 

The darkness of my first day comes down. In the 
lighted park the circle of promenaders gravitate 
around the central fountain, and their laughter, 
mingled with the sweet music, floats upon the evening- 
air. So long as daylight lingers I am drawn by an 
irresistible attraction to the windows, to feast my 
unaccustomed eyes upon that huge pile of rocks and 
trees which darkens the west, and to let my fancy 
build towers and castles and turrets, to trace paths 
and descry shapes and figures, to fashion the whole 
into a flame-kissed embattlement peopled with 
impossible creatures, and to 

' ' Give to airy nothings 
A local habitation and a name." 



"Abroad fok the Summer." — A Fashionable 
Kesort. 

The five-mile ride to Manitou, Colorado's most fash- 
ionable resort, is fraught with much of interest to 
the sight-seer. A graceful branch of the Denver 
and Rio Grande picks its way amid the most beau- 
tiful scenery. Here the red cliffs glow upon you; 
to the right, are inviting though aggravating glimpses 
of the wonders of the Garden of the Gods ; and the 
mountains, to which you are closer now than ever, 
seem to look with a kindly contempt upon the 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 123 

ambitious little narrow-gauge train worming about 
along their feet. Tlie only stop to afford tlie engine 
breath is at Colorado City, the former capital of the 
Territory and the oldest town in the State. I use 
the word" town " with some hesitation, because lam 
in doubt as to the propriety of a group of saloons 
being dignified by that title. The reflection brought 
on by this thought is interrupted by the train's halt- 
ing beside the cool summer depot at Manitou, and 
the cries which greet you, of "Free 'bus for Barker's 
Hotel!" "The Mansions — right here!" "Carriage 
for the Cliff House, ma'am f etc. 

Manitou is called the " Saratoga of the West." It 
is a child of the Rockies ; it is picturesqueness per- 
sonified. It is composed chiefly of hotels — a full (in 
more senses than one) dozen besides those mentioned 
— bath-houses, summer-houses, curiosity-shops, liv- 
ery-stables, and restaurants. The streets wind in all 
directions, and seem to fairl}" enjoy the bewilderment 
of the new-comer, who often travels in a zig-zag cir- 
cle and suddenly brings up at the very place whence 
he started. You soon leai'n to appreciate the inhab- 
itants' sublime disregard for the points of the com- 
pass, and understand why it is that, in directing you, 
they always say " right" and " left" and " opposite," 
instead of '' north " and " south," etc. 

There is a little stream — " The Fontaine-qui- 
Bouille " — born somewhere up among the mountains, 
comes threadmg, and gliding, and murmuring to itself 
until it reaches the suburbs, and then, like any other 
country-reared maiden, goes hurrying noisiW through 
the very centre of town, blissfully conscious of the 
admn^ing attention bestowed from everv side. 



124 NOT AT HOME. 

As a consequence of the winding, irregular streets, 
the residence lots are laid off in all shapes and at all 
angles. Steep stairways often ascend through the 
yards, which rise terrace above terrace, and some- 
times you must say, not " east front" or " west front," 
but " up front " and "down front." T thmk the state 
of affairs would puzzle even an El Dorado real estate 
agent. Imagine a perpendicular boom ! and of sell- 
ing town lots in a vertical position ! The little 
stream is crossed here and there by neat bridges in 
various styles of architecture ; and in this half town, 
half park, there are many pretty lawns, groves, 
tennis courts, rustic seats, shady arbors, winding- 
canopied walks, and out-of-the-way nooks. 

The bath-house, erected in 1883 at a cost of 
$20,000, is one of the finest buildings in Manitou. It 
contains twent3^-four enameled bath-tubs and one 
large swimming-bath room some thirty-five feet 
square; and has supply pipes from all the famous 
springs. Here, for fifty cents, one may, after a dusty 
day, be "made over" — born again, so to speak — 
clean. 

But by far the most interesting spot in the resort — 
the spot where all Avalks and lanes and streets 
converge — is the Springs, Navajo and the Soda. The 
wide, airy summer-house, in the centre of which 
they bubble, is filled from morning tdl night with an 
ever-going, ever-returning throng ; hence this is, of 
all places, the one in which to observe humanity in 
its many phases. Sit with me here upon this rustic 
seat in the shade, and let us look. 

"Abroad for the Summer?" Yes, indeed; hun- 
dreds and hundreds of our countrymen, and each 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 135 

With his five liundred friends, scranibling for the best 
sleeper berths, the best opera chairs, and the best 
bargains, and getting the worst ; packed three and 
four deep in the upper rooms of summer hotels ; liv- 
ing all season in valises and trunks ; trying to see 
everything in the shortest time possible; wearing 
winter clothes all summer ; climbing mountains and 
buying views for the entertainment of friends who 
had the good sense to stay at home ; pajnng con- 
scienceless shopkeepers for "curiosities," about which 
tlie only thing curious is the price; going calling, 
drinking mineral water, gossipping, over-eating, over- 
sleeping, over-doing — and calling it all enjoyment ! 
But never mind ; they've been " abroad for the sum- 
mer," have met Mrs. Senator A , have dined with 

ex-Governor B , and it's all " too awfully delight- 
ful for anything" — except the pocket-book. 

But we are losing time, and are forgetting to 
observe. Lo ! here they come : " Solomon in all his 
glory was not arrayed like one of these." First they 
gather around the spring, where the uniformed boy 
(who must be wound up and run by cogs, so tireless 
is he) waits upon each with the same mechanical 
grace. 

You can tell the old frequenter by the ease with 
which he empties glass after glass,' smacks his lips, 
and keeps up conversation with his companions. 
The first-seasoner, too, is known by certain unmis- 
takable signs. Sometimes the first swallow ins2:)ires 
a wry face, and the glass is handed back as full as it 
was taken. Again, one more heroic than the 
remainder, will bolt a whole glass, keeping steadily 
on and draining the last bitter drop with a "Con- 



136 NOT AT HOME. 



quer-or-die" expression, and a self-sacrificing devo- 
tion worthy a better cause. Not infrequently the 
lirst taste brings about a series of expression as dif- 
ficult to analyze as the water itself. First there is 
a startled, bewildered expression, as if something 
has been experienced too perplexing for comprehen- 
sion. This is replaced by one of doubt and hesita- 
tion, as if his faith in the whole human family is 
receiving a terrible shaking. Then comes a milder 
one — a sort of " Judge-not-that'-ye-be-not-judged," 
" If-at-first-you-don't-succeed " expression. Then 
comes a second cautious taste from the glass — a full 
confirmation of the awful truth — and there settles 
down upon that countenance a look of injured wrath 
and high contempt that could culminate without an 
effort in the hurling of the glass at the head of the 
innocent l3oy in uniform, were it not that he has 
long since become insensible to expressions, and con- 
tinues to hand up glasses to other victims. To 
Avhich of the three great classes I belong, judge, O 
ye gods ! 

The throng moves by — politicians worn with the 
affairs of state ; over-worked statesmen, actors, and 
literary people ; great people, with modest dress and 
refined air ; and the vast army of the new rich, ever 
distinguishable by their display of dress and "I-own- 
the-world " bearing — the imitators, the snobbery. 

The *•' dead-head " is here five hundred strong, 
the " umbra " of some influential friend, a tow-boat 
in the wake of a ship, a parasite, a sapper, who 
never pays, and whose name — like Hugo's clubman in 
"Les Miserables" — is never heard unless preceded by 
the conjunction " and." 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 127 

The dude is here, in all the splendor of his "Prince 
Albert," silk hat, cane, and eye-glass. Pie is from 
the East, has seasoned at Newport, Saratoga, and 
White Sulphur. He stares and talks languidly — but 
don't let's look at him. 

" Tlie earth hath bubbles, as the water has, 
And these are of them." 

The invalid is here, in a wheeled chair and wraps, 
with white hands, thin face, and dark, hollow eyes. 

The mother is here, with her habitually anxious 
face, an old campaigner from the battle-field of many 
a watering-place. 

The cause of her anxiety is here, a fit companion- 
piece for the dude — "wretched, unidea'd girls," 
"sweet and twenty," who would promenade a gravel 
walk around the world, if said walk were girted with 
eye-glasses; who appeal everything to "Papa" or 
"Mamma"; who are just "out"; who flutter and 
giggle, and go into the seventh heaven of ecstasy 
over everything, fi'om a stretch of mountain scenery 
down to a slice of angels' food. 

The growler is here, even here — though I fancied 
I had left them all behind — for whom the daj^s are 
too bright or too cloudj^, the baths too hot or too 
cold, the scenery tame, society dull, and everything 
in a state of up-side-downness — veritable ' ' Mark 
Taple3^s," who are only happy when they are miser- 
able. 

The belle of many seasons is here, sweet siren of 
the summer resort, mistress of herself, queen of 
others' hearts, a cloud of bevritching drapery, with 
dreamful eyes and fluttering fan. 



128 NOT AT HOME. 

The children are here, happy under the lax con- 
trol of heedless nurses : 

'*rhe children ! they who are the only rich, 
Creating for the moment, and possessing 
Whate'er they choose to feign." 

Thank fortune for something wholly natural in so 
artful a place as a resort promenade ! 

The artist is here — who, like my companion there, 
sits with shaded eyes fastened on the overhanging 
mountain, unheedful just now of the great panorama 
of humanity revolving about the spring. 

" Keader mine " (as the story books say), if you 
wish to be classified with any of the above groups ; 
if you wish a life-size portrait, done in ink, and 
stamped with the trademark of your own peculiar- 
ity, come to Manitou, where satisfaction will be fully 
guaranteed. 

" I love to enter pleasure by a postern — 
Not the broad, popular gate that gulps the mob ; 
To find my theatre in roadside nooks 
Where men are actors and suspect it not. 
* * * * for wheresoe'er 

Ten men are gathered, the observant eye 
Will find the world in little, ;is the stars 
Glide up and set, and all the heavens revolve, 
In the small welkin of a drop of dew." 



ExcuEsioN TO South Park. 

Thursday, the day set apart for the Good Tem- 
plars' excursion to South Park, seemed from the 
summit of our impatience to fairly loiter along the 
highway of time. But she arrived at last, in time to 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 129 

save her credit, just as Wednesday had slammed the 
back gate. However, if she did linger, the pleas- 
ures that she stopped to gather for us by the way 
more than compensated for the delay. At an early 
hour hacks were busy furnishing free transportation 
to the new Colorado Midland depot, whence the 
excursion was to start ; and soon the platform was 
crowded with eager pleasure-seekers, each equipped 
with lunch baskets, umbrella, field-glasses, and round- 
trip ticket. 

At 8 o'clock section two of the train, consist- 
ing of three coaches and an observation car, backed 
in, and was at once filled and side-tracked. My 
friend and I wisely (as it afterwards proved) waited 
until section one backed in. Both sections were 
well filled, and it was estimated that there w^ere 
over four hundred |2 tickets sold. Our section, 
which consisted of two coaches, a dining-car, and an 
observation car, started first; and being already 
filled to the brim, glided through Colorado City and 
Manitou, leaving number two to stop for the waiting- 
passengers. 

Leaving Manitou to the right and far below us, we 
begin the steep ascent. The lamps in the coaches 
are scarcely lighted and the windows lowered ere 
we enter a long tunnel, dark as Erebus, whence we 
emerge only to enter another. From this cave of 
darkness we glide into the brightness of early morn- 
ing among the mountains, to find ourselves upon the 
long iron bridge which spider-legs itself into Iron 
Springs. Across this we creep with breathless cau- 
tion, ignore the waiting excursionists at the station, 
round the dizzy curve of an abrupt mountain, and 
4 



130 NOT AT HOME. 

sweep into a succession of six tunnels. We have 
hardly time to recover from this, when the engine 
with a prolonged shriek starts forward, and up, up, 
as if possessed of a mad ambition to scale the very 
mountain tops ; and the train, shuddering and quiver- 
ing and swaying with an awful fear, winds along in 
its wake as though impelled by an irresistible fasci- 
nation. 

We are in the celebrated Cascade Caiion now, and 
are climbing to the very fountain head of the little 
stream which goes leaping and plunging over the 
rocky barriers, waving its foam-flecked hands to us 
at every turn. 

The ascent of this first four and a half miles of road 
is 949 feet. Across the stream the old overland stage- 
road follows the water's course with a brotherly tenac- 
ity, and so the three go parallel to the head of the caiion 
— the old trail, the older water-course, and the shin- 
ing rails of the new Midland. Once at the head, the 
track almost doubles itself into an abrupt curve, and 
with wondering surprise we look back upon the 
whole traversed way — forest, canon, crags, and water; 
and there above them all smiles the benign features 
of Pike's Peak, the only familiar object in this wild 
panorama. 

So we speed on, with new beauties unfolding at 
every turn. The rocks, Avliich in and about Colorado 
Springs are red, here take on the softer tints of gray 
and green ; pines, jutting cliffs, water-worn rocks, 
deep caverns, strange and beautiful flowers, singly 
and in ever-varied relations, diversify the mountain's 
sloping walls. Little cabins and tents too are seen, 
appearing from our height no larger than toys. 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 131 

Anon we pause at a tank to appease our engine's 
thirst, and then climb on. So winding is our way, 
that Pike's Peak looks in first at one side and then 
at the other, as if playing at "peek-a-boo." 

Presently the way becomes more level. Far on 
we catch glimpses of new mountains, capped and 
veined with snow and hung with great clouds white 
as the fleece. "Wee lakes connected by threads of 
water appear by the roadside. For a long time the 
water hesitates, seeming in doubt which way to 
flow. But after " dew " consideration it concludes 
to go with us, and hurries along after the train as if 
to make up for lost time. 

The train itself has a less labored motion. The 
engine ceases to pant, and we can even hear the hiss 
of the brakes. 

The explanation of this lies back a few miles on the 
smoothed trunk of the giant pine tree, where appear 
the figures 9,200. That pine marks Hayden's Divide, 
and means we are breathing the pure, exhilarating 
atmosphere 9,200 feet above sea level. 

This is our highest point, and from here to where 
we meet the Platte Eiver the run is effortless and 
pleasant. Once we side-tracked half an hour to 
wait the regular passenger from Buena Vista. 
Where we stopped was a city of tents, each with its 
res]3ective sign : one grocery store, one lunch room, 
and four saloons ; the others, with the box cars, 
formed residences. Each saloon was marked by a 
large pyramid of bottles, broken and whole, at the 
side ; and there even seemed some rivalry as to which 
could boast of the largest pile of bottles. 

In front of one of these saloons sat a creature in 



132 NOT AT BOME. 

men's clothing, his arms dropped limply at his side, 
his reddened face on his breast, too wofuUy drunk 
(there is no other word) to lift up his head to tlie 
sweet, pure tiir and bright sunlight of this perfect 
morning. And there he sat, a fit advertisement for 
the trap within and for man's weakness and sin. 
The friend and I looked and shook our heads, and 
quoted under our breath: ''They order this thing 
better in France" — only, of course, we meant in 
Kansas. 

The half hour was spent in gathering wild flowers 
and grasses, and in wandering as far as we dared 
from the train. At length a long whistle, which the 
echoes caught and prolonged strangely, announced 
the other train, and soon our engine ''took up its 
burden of life again." 

Before us awaits scenery to surpass all we have 
yet passed. We enter Eleven-mile Canon. The 
entrance is two narrow, perpendicular wails of gray 
granite, which give us but one way to look — straight 
up. To one of these dark, continuous walls the train 
clings with almost human instinct, sending forth its 
warning whistle to afi'right the echoes and startle 
animal life from its customary seclusion. Great 
boulders hanging to the walls glare menacingly in 
the windows, as much as to say, " If I should let go 
my slender hold what would become of jouv poor 
little train .<" From the windows of one side we look 
up the dark wall to its pine-crowned summit against 
the blue sky ; from the other, down into the tossing 
waters of the Platte, fretted by moveless rocks and 
fallen trees. And the rocks pile higher and wilder, 
grouping themselves into shapes artistic and fantastic. 



LETTERS FliOM COLORADO. 133 

The scenery becomes rougher, more weird, more 
striking. New forms and combinations await our 
every move, until, weary of inadequate speech, we 
sink into the golden silence of awe. Thus for eleven 
miles. Then there opens before us a wide expanse, 
tree-studded and begirt by mountains, and the train, 
with accelerated speed, skims along 

" a streamlet 



In the middle of the meadow; 

By a streamlet still and tranquil, 

Where, knee deep, the trees are standing; 

Where the water-lilies floated, 

Where the rushes waved and whispered." 

We pass the steam-shovel at work loading cars 
with gravel ; pass the dug-outs of the laborers, and 
pass the long sheds of Hartsel's Ranch. Two miles 
further and we halt at Hartsel's Station, our destina- 
tion, at exactly 1 o'clock v. m., after a seventy- 
mile ride. 

We spent the first hour at dinner, some going up 
among the pines to enjoy luncheon in true picnic 
style ; soine going to Hot Springs Hotel ; others, like 
ourselves, preferring the cool of the cars, where ice 
cream, lemonade, and California fruits were served 
in addition to lunch. We then strayed np to the 
hotel for a cup of coffee — and right here I want the 
devouring envy of all my readers ; for it is not every 
mortal who is privileged to drink a 25-cent cup of 
coffee 8,500 feet above sea level. 

Having cooled our faces in the crystal brook we 
proceeded to climb Hot Springs Butte for a view of 
surrounding country. Hot Springs Butte is the 
lower of the two points of Hartsel's Bluffs. Pano- 



184 NOT AT HOME. 

rama, 9,200 feet above sea level, is the higher. The 
two are separated by " the romantic, shach^, but 
waterless twilight glen." The hotel and station lie 
to the left ; the bath house to the right, with the 
river below at our very feet ; eastward Pike's Peak 
still watches over us ; to the north and west, moun- 
tains Yale and Harvard, Mount Democrat (moss-cov- 
ered, of course). Horse Shoe Mountain, and Alpine 
Pass. 

The magnificence and scope of the view repay 
our breathless scramble, and we sit down beneath 
the shade of a huge rock to draw the distance to us 
at leisure with field-glasses. We wander on down 
the other side — the friend to the river, I to the 
shadow of a pine, which has strewn the slope far 
around with cones for many a year. And here I 
sit, tossing pebbles down the slope, and dreaming the 
happy hours away. 

' ' Very hot and still the air is, 
Very smooth the gliding river. 
Motionless the sleeping shadows; 
Insects glisten in the sunshine. 
Fill the drowsy air with buzzing, 
With a far-resounding war cry." 

But time flies, and soon the two short signal 
whistles from our engine tell that it is 3:-15 o'clock, 
with fifteen minutes before starting back. Our 
return has already been delayed an hour by the late 
arrival of section two, a coach of which mysteri- 
ously jumped the track some miles back. No one 
had been hurt, and they had come m time for some 
of the precious coffee and as much of the mountains 
as had not been chipped away into specimens. 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 135 

Now at the prearranged signals, the four hundred 
come scrambling down to the station from all sides, 
laden with flowers, rocks, etc.; and as we get under 
headway such talking and laughing, and exchanging 
of experiences and specimens and luncheons— and 
how, from the observation car, '' Hush, little baby, 
don't you cry," " There's one more river to cross," and 
" White wings" float up and come back to us again 
from the re-echoing walls ! 

At a small station we meet a heavy local freight 
too long for the siding. Here our already belated 
train is delayed a full hour to witness a complication 
of switching ; so that by the time we are off again, 
plunging into the gorges ahead, and swinging from 
height to dizzier height, 

" The sun goes down, and the shades of night 
Come up from the vale, and the pine trees tall, 
The old gray roeks, and the water fall 
Grow dusky and dim 'gainst the cloud-riram'd skies, 
And night, like a pall, on the mountain lies." 

Then it is that a ride at the rear end of the obser- 
vation car, Avith hat secure, hands firm holding the 
trusty iron railing, and heart open to receive Nature's 
teachings, proves the best experience of the day. 
As we go rushing through the canon, over tressels, 
round curves, up grade and down grade, through 
tunnels, past hamlet, river, and pine, with the sum- 
nier moon brightening and whitening all, I think in 
my inmost heart : Sureh^, one reared among such 
surroundings, in the loneliness and silence and sublim- 
ity of the mountains ; where the solitary cliff rises 
to meet the sky, and where the awful storm king 



136 NOT AT HOME. 

spends his wrath ; where the unrelenting finger of 
time seams the rough mountains with caverns and 
gulfs; where fancy has unlimited scope, width, 
height, and depth ; where 

' 'Lie deep, 'neath a silcuce pure and smooth. 
These burnt-out craters, healed with snow "; 

surely, 'mid such surroundings as these, where the 
Creator has symbolized His own eternal grandeur, 
man has — must have— a higher conception of his 
Maker than he who is conlined all his life to the 
narrow city streets and the carpeted aisles of a low- 
roofed church I Here, with grasses for pathways, 
mountains for walls, and the heaven for room, the 
great spirit may breathe, and expand, and grow 
large and clean, and lift itself up, still up, nearer for- 
ever to the Author of al'. 

Surely I have not known God and Nature 
before ! 



Cheyenne Canon. — Helen Hunt's Gkave. 

Yesteeday morning, as the friend sat near the 
window yawning over her sketch-book, and I at the 
table divided my time between letter- writing and 
pressing odd-shaped leaves, the clouds, which all 
forenoon had hung like a canopy over the city, sud- 
denly broke to pieces and fell apart, letting the sun 
pencil lines of light through the front windows. 

We had been confined to the four walls of our room 
all morning by the rain. The tall trees, dripping and 
mournful, had darkened the windows. Our friend 
the sun had been hidden : and even Pike's Peak had 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 137 

pulled the damp sack-cloth over his head, and, unseen, 
mourned 'mid the universal gloom. We had been 
silent and unsociable for some hours, each at her own 
absorbing task. But now, as the clouds lifted, the 
friend rested thoughtfully on her pencil a moment, 
and then broke the silence : "Why not visit Cheyenne 
Caiion this afternoon?" 

So said, so done. 'Twere but quick work to sweep 
aside letters and leaves, pack sketch-book, note-book, 
pencils and luncheon, equip ourselves in loose dresses, 
mountain shoes, and gossamers, and walk around to 
the palatial livery-stable on Cucharras Street, to order 
horse and buggy. While we were listening to direc- 
tions as to the road, a gentleman entered the office to 
ask if he could join a party that afternoon to visit 
Cheyenne Canon — himself, wife, and sister. So we 
joined our fortunes for the remainder of the day, the 
five of us ; which number, with the driver, just filled 
a three-seated carriage. 

We started at 1 o'clock, a very ceremonious and 
proper set ; and we might have been " strangers yet" 
but for the golden emblem of our State (God save the 
mark !). We were passing a field where these yellow 
ghosts of Clytia stood dripping and shivering, but 
still lifting their loyal heads to the sun. 

Some one leaned forward and murmured: "Ah, 
that's the first natural thing I've seen !" And some 
one echoed, " Yes," 

Some one else said — "Then you're from Kansas?" 
And all echoed "Yes, are you?" "Yes," "Yes," 
followed by a general laugh. Our companions proved 
to be Mr. and Mrs. Campbell and Mrs. Sexton, of 
Minneapohs, Kansas, and very pleasant people too. 



138 NOT AT HOME. 

The treacherous clouds had no sooner gotten us 
two or three miles into the tangled roads of the foot- 
hills, than they came upon us again, and laughed till 
they cried at the way we hustled out gossamers and 
buttoned down side curtains. But "Never stand 
aside for trifles," some writer says; "let them do 
that honor to you." So, calling on our Kansas 
grit, we "kept our hands to the plough" — and turn 
back we didn't. 

A five-mile ride from Colorado Springs led us to 
the entrance of the famous South Cheyenne Canon. 
Here leaving the carriage and our hats, we hooded 
ourselves in gossamers, and with umbrellas in our 
hands and determination in our eyes, we entered into 
the afternoon's pleasures and the canon at the same 
time. At the first of the hundred turns we made, 
we encountered the mountain stream, which flows 
through a zig-zag course, dashing from side to side 
like an imprisoned creature, being met each time by 
an unyielding wall of rock a thousand feet high. As 
a consequence of this erratic course we crossed the 
stream eleven times by means of smoothed logs. On 
these we invariably paused to look through the 
transparent waters at the pebbled bed below. But 
if we looked below too much we lost the beauties and 
wonders around and above us. The turns v/ere so 
abrupt that looking back we could see no trace of the 
seam by which we had entered ; looking forward we 
could see no exit ; and looking up the two gray walls 
to the grayer sky, it did indeed seem that we were 
Nature's prisoners. 

So gradually were the surprises developed before 
us, that the result as a whole could scarcely be appre- 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. lau 

ciated. Language fails. "VVe took enough luncheon, 
but must have forgotten to pack our adjectives. 
And ^ve did not so painfully realize our loss until we 
stood midway upon the last bridge and lifted won- 
dering faces to the falls above us. The stream 
makes a fall of 500 feet at this point (three-quarters 
of a mile from entrance), in seven distinct leaps, 
known as the Seven Falls. The deep circular well 
in which the fourth leap terminates looked bottom- 
less through the misty veil of rain spray, and, we 
were told, receives only the rays of the noonday sun. 

When ^ve had looked many minutes from the centre 
of the bridge the guide asked if we cared to go up to 
the grave 'i Go away from Cheyenne Canon without 
visiting Helen Hunt's grave ? Not after we had braved 
the elements that far ! So, with the guide in the lead, 
we all filed up the wooden stairway of 260 steps, 
which ascend parallel with the descending sheets of 
water. It was no small matter, that climb; and the 
stoutest of us stopped often for reasons other than to 
admire the cascade. 

On Wei ground again for a moment, we crossed 
the even stream where it slides along above the 
highest fall ; and then commences the most serious 
part of the ascent, the scramble up the face of 
Cheyenne Mountain. The narrow foot-path weaves 
and doubles itself in and out, back and forth, but up 
ever. The loose gravel and wet sand furnish an 
insecure foothold, with only an occasional bush to 
reach down a helping hand. And with our one 
hand for satchel and the other for long-suffering (in 
more senses than one) skirts, it would seem to require 
more limbs than four to keep the "■after-thought of 



1-iU NOT AT HOME. 

creation " in anything like a perpendicular position. 
But we set our teetli firmly, and tried to do likewise 
with our feet, and, with a grim, l^apoleonic, " There- 
are-no-Alps !" sort of feehng, struggled on. We 
reached the top, we did. What mattered the sandy, 
wet shoes, the clay-fringed skirts, the chopping hair, 
the weariness? "The end crowns the work." And 
there we stood, 'neath the dripping pines of old 
Cheyenne Mountain, looking down with pride upon 
the seven misty falls, tlie winding gorge, and the 
valley beyond — more than 8,000 feet above his 
majesty the Ocean ! 

Only a step or two further to the right and we 
stood beside the grave of Helen Hunt Jackson, the 
well-known author, whose choice of this spot for a 
last resting-place was inspired by her loving admira- 
tion of the region. 

Reverently Ave bent above it to read the many 
inscribed cards left among the stones and flowers 
which mark the grave, each busy with her own 
thoughts. Somehow, a thought of the author's own 
kept revolving itself in my mind. She has said 
somewhere that there are nine places of worship in 
and around Colorado Springs, and goes on to mention 
the eight churches of the city, naming Cheyenne 
Canon as the ninth place of worship. 

As I stood there in the wind and rain, while the 
"dark rack drove o'er head," the great mountains 
seemed changed to cathedral walls, the thunder of 
the falls to tlie roll of organ music, and the savage 
rocks and pines to a congregation, waiUng above the 
bier of their sister worshiper, 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. U\ 

" Call it not vain ; they do uot err 
Wlio say that when tlie poet dies 
Mute nature mourns her worshiper 
And celebrates the obsequies." 

The descent of our traversed path we found much 
easier than the ascent. (Writer's sign-board : '"Look 
for nioraL") We just set our heels in the sand, held 
our breath (what little we had), shut our eyes, and 
when we opened them — lo! we were down, standing 
at the head of the Falls, ready for those 200 steps, 
which seemed child's play to us now. 

First we drank of the pure, cold water above the 
Falls, and I poured back half my cup as a libation to 
the presiding Naiad, that she might deal mercifully 
with us for trespassing upon her nymph-ship's sacred 
domain. As a direct consequence, we reached not 
only the foot of the stairs, but the mouth of the 
canon in safety, just as I knew we Avould after I 
did that. And, since it was still raining, and we 
still 

"Heard the footsteps of the thunder, 
Saw the red eyes of the lightning," 

we took a circuitous and leisurely ride back to 
the Springs, laden with specimens and rare 
flowers. 

To-morrow at 5:30 a. m. we, the same party, are to 
start for Seven Lakes, which is twenty-two miles on 
our road to Pike's Peak. We will be gone two days ; 
so until we return you must endeavor to bear both 
the suspense as to the fate of our venturesome party, 
and the absence of my pennings. 



142 NOT A T HOME. 

To Pike's Peak via Seven Lakes. 

Yes, I am back from the Pike's Peak scramble, and, 
after a brief rest, " Richard's liimself again," save that 
he is wiser and browner than he Avas three days ago. 

Last Monday morning by 6:30 our party was ready 
to start on the twenty-two-mile ride to the Seven 
Lakes. The party consisted of Mr. and Mrs. J. Camp- 
bell, Mrs. Alice Sexton, and Mr. Scott Burn em, of 
Minneapolis, Kansas ; Miss Addie Jones, of Topeka ; 
the friend and myself, besides Davis, the driver. 

The excursion wagon selected for the trip was 
built especially for mountain roads ; with so much 
stress upon great strength, in connection with light- 
ness, it would seem that no one part would give way 
alone, but would " run a hundred years to a day," 
and then all go at once, like the wonderful " One-hoss- 
Shay." The team, a pair of sinewy roans, was built 
very much on the same plan. 

The wagon was equipped with springs, three 
cushioned seats, a stout brake, canopy top, water- 
proof side curtains, and storm blankets. Then each 
occupant had a lunch basket, small valise, gossamer, 
mountain shoes, heavy wraps, colored glasses, and 
books for pressing flowers. Escorting the wagon 
were two sure-footed bronchos, the one with a lady's, 
the other with a gentleman's saddle, each with a 
rubber coat, and pouch at side for specimens. These 
were a pleasant necessity, as but six could comfort- 
ably occup3^ the carriage seats at once, and because 
the frequent changingf rom the seats to the bronchos — 
or even to occasional walking — afforded rest. With 
such an outfit, and on an exceptionally pleasant morn- 



LETTERS FROM VOLORABO. 14:) 

ing, we skimmed the foot-hills, passed the toll-gate, 
and began the ciscent of Cheyenne Mountain. 

"Away, away ! our jovial baud 
Will seek, will seek the raountalu land, 
And sliare, 'mid haunts of elk and deer, 
Fresh air and hunter's cheer. 
Where towering cliffs and cedars green 

Are seen, our tireless feet 
Will oft those wind-swept summits gain, 
The rising sun to greet.' 

But in order to gain those wind-swept summits, 
considerable climbing and panting had to be done. 
Many times at the begimiing of a rocky and almost 
perpendicular climb all would alight, even to the 
driver. Then he would loosen the brake, throw the 
check-reins over the horses' necks, and, walking beside 
them, urge them with voice and whip to strain their 
already quivering muscles to reach the top. And the 
readiness with which they bent to the task, with wide 
nostrils and throbbing sides, won the sympathizing 
admiration of all. Meantime we would scout about 
through the pines, fallen logs, and undergrowth for 
what might be found; and at the top would compare 
our collections of bright leaves, handfuls of berries, 
sparkling stones, exquisite flowers, or perhaps a baby 
bird or vari-c )lored butterfly, afterwards released. 
And sometimes, 

" Up the oak tree close beside us 
Sprang tlie squirrel, Adjidaumo, 
In and out among the branches, 
Coughed and chattered from the oak tree; 
And the rabbit from our pathway 
Leaped aside, and at a distance 
Sat erect upon his haunches, 
Half in fear and half in frolic." 



144 NOT A T lIOMhJ. 

Mountain streams were numerous, and anywhere 
w^e could fill our tin cups by the roadside. By 10 
o'clock we reached a large ranch w4th its log cabin 
in the valley. Here we stopped briefly to water the 
horses and to shift places. And here for the first time 
in my life I mounted a broncho. We had scarcely 
quitted the ranch and gained a half-way point up 
the next height in advance of the wagon, when, with 
just one warning shout of thunder, a mountain storm 
burst upon us. !Not in the least disconcerted, but 
with rubbers buttoned closely from head to toe, we 
urged the dripping bronchos forw^ard to the shelter 
of a roadside pine, and there enjoyed this new experi- 
ence until the wagon, with close-fastened curtains, 
came up wdth us. It was something almost grand 
to see the purple clouds come rolling blackly just 
overhead ; to see all mountaindom, save crag and 
pine, bow before the driving rain ; to see a peak to 
the left of us w^rapped in gray mist, while another 
just beyond smiled in the sunshine ; and w^hen the 
rain changed to hail, to see the stems about us shed- 
ding leaf and blossom, to hear the footsteps of the 
storm clattering above, around, and below us among 
the rocks ; and later, to look through the w^hite and 
silver drops to the brightness of the clearing sky ! 
At 12:30 we stopped for dinner near a recently 
deserted mining camp, where we found a spring, 
thick shade, a table, stool — and plenty of empty 
bottles. 

Beaver Park was the next point of interest after 
^ve broke camp. It is a wdde opening between 
heights, is well supplied with water, grass, and shade ; 
and here the Pales watch over their many flocks in 



LETTEllS FROM COLORADO. 145 

safety. Across this valle}", and we came to what are 
termed the "Stairs," a steej?, narrow wagon road 
winding spirally to the left of the densely wooded 
mountain. 

The " air line " distance of twelve miles doubles 
and coils itself into twenty-two picturesque miles ere 
the Seven Lakes are reached. The scenery is excelled 
only by that skirting the Midland route to South 
Park. This drive had an advantage over the ride to 
Hartsel's, in that the scenery unfolded itself more 
slowly to the observer's eye. Again Nature appears 
in all her moods ; now smiling from a flower-strewn 
bank or murmuring from a hidden, grass-draped 
brook, now frowning from black and broken cliffs, 
or moaning hoarsely from her gloomy pines. Down 
the sides of many of the mountains we saw the deso- 
lated path of the snow-slides, the great pines bleached 
and branchless, the worn stones, all, all lying prone 
in the track, while the dense green forest on either 
side marked the way more plainly. Nor was this 
all. The Avhole region through which we passed 
had been at some time visited by forest fires, as the 
charred and lifeless tree-trunks testified ; and what 
the fires had left had fallen victim to the merciless 
tornado. But the 3"0ung pines and oaks and quaking- 
asps whispered and waved among these witnesses of 
Nature's wrath, and the new green everywhere spoke 
of hope and resurrection. 

Up the "' Stairs," over tw^o more heights, and we 
caught our first glimpse of Seven Lakes. They lie, 
these limpid Pleiades, in a semi-circle in the valley, 
reaching bare crystal arms, the one to the other. 
The valley itself is circular, shut in on all sides by 



146 NOT AT HOME. 

huge mountain piles, the venerable Bald Mountain 
on the east. The rise from Colorado Springs (which 
is more than 5,000 feet above sea level) to Seven 
Lakes is 6,100 feet ; so you will not wonder when I 
tell you that the more shadowed of these lakes are 
partly covered with ice the year around. 

Our party, somewhat fatigued by the eleven hours' 
ride, hailed the first view of the destination with 
exclamations of relief and satisfaction. We dropped 
as if by magic down into a level road; and the 
horses, lifting their drooping heads, drew us rapidly 
along the fence which enclosed large droves of 
ponies and burros, along the largest of the lakes, 
where rocked a small boat, and u]) before the large, 
three-story log hotel, which has a monopoly on the 
patronage, it being the only house in all the valley. 
In the parlor, with its bare oaken floor and white- 
washed walls, we warmed our aching toes and lin- 
gers at the spacious fireplace, piled high with crack- 
ling pine logs, and then out into the porch and yard 
to enjo}^ the twilight. 

The lake that kissed the grassy edges of the yard 
rippled back to the mountain's foot, mirroring the 
sky, and 

" from a visionary shore 

Hung visioned trees, that more and more 
Grew dusk as those above were dimmed." 

The sun had long since hidden his face behind the 
crest of the western mountain, and those of us who 
had good eyes could discern Yenus, his faithful fol- 
lower, glistening in the bright sky, and Jupiter higher 
and fainter. 



LETTERS ?'ROM COLOItADO. . 147 

"There, as the flaming Occident 

Burned slowly down to ashes gray, 
Night pitched o'erhead her silent tent, 
And glimmering gold from Hesper sprent 
Upon the darkened valley lay." 

As we stood absorbing the beauties of the twilight, 
one of the gent'emen stepped to the margin of the 
lake, and, lifting his face to Bald Mountain, and 
holding his hands about his lips like a trumpet sent 
forth a rich, musical "' Ah ! " The result was wonder- 
ful. The immediate mountains caught the cry, with 
an echo but little fainter. Tlien the distant and 
more distant ones repeated it, until it whispered 
itself into far silence — '' Ah, a — h, a-h ] " 

" Oh, hark! oh, hear! how thin and clear. 

And thinner, clearer, farther going, 

From near and far, from cliff and scar. 

The horns of elf-land faintly blowing! 
Blow, bugle! let us hear the purple glens replying; 
Answer, echoes! dying — dying — dying!" 

While we were listening to the repeated experi- 
ment, before we yielded to the cold and returned 
indoors, some one said, " Look at the east ! " Every 
face was uplifted to the eastern heights, and we saw 
the trees and rocks grow clear-edged against the 
white light that flooded the east. The light grew 
brighter. The mountain spires behind us were 
tipped with silver. 

" All the air was white with moonlight, 
All the waters black with shadows." 

Then on a sudden, over the ragged, broken summit 
of that eastern pile, 



148 NOT AT HOME. 

•' the moon, 

* * * rising in cloudy majesty. 
Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light, 
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw." 



The Climb to the Suivimit. 

" One after one the stars had risen and set, 
Sparkling upon the hoarfrost on the grass ; 
The Bear, that prowls all night about the fold 
Of the North-star, had slunk into the den, 
Scared by the blithesome footsteps of the Dawn," 

when there came a gentle (:') tapping at our room 
door, and a voice said : " It is 4:30, and breakfast 
and the burros are ready." 

I hadn't slept five minutes, I know I hadn't — just 
long enough to pass the toll-gate of an icy dream, 
and fancy myself sitting sideways on Pike's Peak, 
looking in awe up to the pinnacle of a Colorado 
burro — when I found myself seated bolt upriglit, 
drawing the blankets about my shivering form, and 
murmuring a dazed response to the voice outside, 
" It is easy," says an ancient wit, " to make up your 
mind to rise early, but not so your body." 

I tried, as I iaced my size-and-a-half-too-large 
mountain shoes, and chattered through the remain- 
ing (small in comjiarison) part of an extraordinary 
toilet, to console myself with the thought that seven 
other dreams, as ])oetical, perhaps, as mine, had been 
stopped in an intei*esting place, and that seven other 
mortals Avere dropping combs from stiff fingers, 
exhausting their interjections (if nothing worse), and 
wishing that night clerk were himself on the summit 



LETTERS FUOM COLORADO. 149 

of Pike's Peak rather than stumbling around that 
time of night to get them there. 

In little more than half an hour we five ladies, 
cloaked and veiled and gloved and delighted, stepped 
from the cheery fireplace out into the porch, where, 
in the front vard, the locomotive power of the excur- 
sion stood ready saddled. 

The burro has been called the " elevator of the 
Kocky Mountains." He can carry as many and as 
much as can, by hook or crook, be made to stay on 
his shaggy back. Cabins, ranches, and hotels, among 
the Kockies, are largely supplied by burro trains. 
He is not above carrying baled hay, furniture, lum- 
ber, fuel, provisions, etc., etc.; not above, for he is 
usually below such things, though you can see little 
save two lini}), ^vabbly ears and four pipe-like legs. 
The huge pack-saddles and trappings are loads of 
themselves. He can scramble up the face of a rock, 
and cling to the meagerest footing with goat-like 
surety. His sure-footedness and patient endurance 
make up what he lacks of beauty and swiftness. 
His jaws are insensible to the severest bit, and his 
tough hide to the keenest whip. He has a will of 
his own ; and should it clash with yours, you ma}'- 
as well save time and let him do as he pleases. It's 
a hopeless case. He'll do it in the end. With a 
burro against " a lord of creation," I'll pin my faith 
to the burro every time, though my sympathies 
might be with the " lord." He is small — back of his 
ears. Our Kansas dogs might mistake him for a 
jack rabbit. But they would never do it but once. 
Of his voice Ingersoll says : ' It is the nightingale of 
Colorado. Its range of voice is limited, consisting, 



150 NOT AT HOME. 

indeed, of only two notes ; but the amount of elo- 
(juence, the superb quality, the deep resonance and 
flexible sinuosity which can be thrown by this nat- 
ural musician into such a small compass are tremen- 
dous." 

There being a large demand for burros for the 
day, our party was furnished with two bronchos to 
complete the desired number of animals — real live 
bronchos ; the kind that have a pretty fashion of 
dropping their heads between their fore-feet and 
sending their hind-feet on harmless little flights 
through the air. One of them gave a free exhibition 
of his abilities in this line as he was led from the 
stables, whereupon our three lady acquaintances 
declared that they'd rather walk than to ride that 
creature. They, in fact, had never been in saddles 
before, and were assigned to burros ; I was given 
the aforementioned broncho, while the friend was 
assisted to the back of his mate, a young, restless- 
eyed, inexperienced creature, which afterwards 
proved itself weak and unfit for the rocky terrors 
of Pike. The saddles on all the burros were fur- 
nished with neck and breast-straps to prevent them 
from slipping back. The bronchos' saddles had 
simply the broad double girt. 

Perhaps the few early risers about the hotel were 
accustomed to seeing such parties start, for they only 
smiled and wdiispered among themselves as we filed 
out the gate. But I struggled hard to retain my grav- 
ity as I looked back over that line. If you could 
have seen those lop-eared, stupid little burros, some 
mounted— covered, I should say — by the timid ladies, 
who kept a desperate grip on bridle and saddle-horn, 



LETTERS EEOM COLORADO. 151 

when nothing short of a Kansas cyclone could have 
urged the creatures out of their cautious, mincing- 
walk ; some bestrode by the gentlemen, who perforce 
held up their feet from the dewy grass ; if you could 
have seen the umbrellas at various angles, the awk- 
ward attitudes, the ludicrous, despairing anxiety on 
otherwise happy, expectant faces — the picture as a 
whole, front view, as I had it — you too would have 
surprised the guide with a laugh that would no 
longer be repressed. 

The guide was none other than our knight of the 
whip and brake, Davis, than whom a more 
conscientious and careful driver and more faithful 
and efficient guide never drove 'round breath-snatch- 
ing curves or piloted a party among rocks. lie 
escorts parties to the summit many times each 
season ; has climbed from Seven Lakes to the Peak 
(five miles) in a little more than two and a half hours ; 
and therefore, scorning both burro and broncho, 
strode along before us, whi})ping off leaves with his 
walking-stick, and answering all our questions v»atli 
rare masculine patience. 

The party filed briskl}^ through the first pass, into 
a narrow valley betangled with under-brush and 
threaded by swift streams, every one in full enjoy- 
ment of the chill morning air and beautiful scenery. 
Each leaf, stem, and flower had donned its brightest 
dress and clearest diamonds in honor of our own 
early rising. Pine and oak looked approvingly down 
from the walls of the pass. The clouds smiled 
congratulation. All Nature seemed vocal with her 
worshiper's words : 



152 NOT AT HOME. 

" You'vo got to get up early 
If you wuut to lake in God." 

Out of the pass, and leaving Bear Creek trail to 
the right, we came to what the guide called a hill, 
from whose high top was unfolded to our view 
heretofore unseen mountains, peak on cloud-capped 
peak, with that giant, our objective point, over- 
topping all. 

'• Hun-all, good friends, behold the view, 
Those summits tinged with heaven's own blue! 

And 'mid the clouds they proudly stand 

As monarchs of the laud. 
Come on! our hearts with newer life 

Beat high; this world is passed — 
This lower world of wearing strife; 

"We're near the skies at last! 

A council of war was held on top the hill, and, 
following the advice of our guide, it was decided to 
leave the Seven Lakes trail and charge the rock}^ 
steep to the right, along whose top our eyes could 
thread the Manitou trail. We asked no questions 
as to the reason for leaving our trail, but followed 
the guide with a sublime and why-less faith. 

It was found almost impossible to turn the burros 
from the trail, while the bronchos went clattering 
up the stony steep with more ambition than judg- 
ment. For when, after a long scramble and frequent 
resting, the party reassembled on the Manitou trail, 
the bronchos' sides Avere throbbing i^ainfully, and 
their speaking eyes looked weary and wistful ; while 
the burros searched about among the stones for the 
stray spears of grass with supremest unconcern. We 
were now far above .imber-line. The grass had all 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. ms 

but disappeared. The sun looked down upon us cold 
and bright, and clouds began to roll around and 
above us. 

'' The north wind is full of courage, and puts the 
stamina of endurance into a man," and a woman too ; 
for I found, as the altitude increased, as the wind 
blew keener, and as the way grew more toilsome and 
dangerous, that my spirits rose proportionally, and 
the mere desire to climb, to overcome, to mount, to 
surmount, became the ruling passion. My horse 
seemed to catch the spirit. In spite of his capers of 
the early morning one could not, at the time, fail to 
recognize the sagacity, the high, unbending spirit, 
and the stubborn persistence so necessary to such a 
journey. He was my choice from the first, and he 
made good the choice thrice over. So soon as he 
recognized that play-time and the easy climbing had 
passed, he settled to his work most gallantly, bend- 
ing all his energies to the selection of the most acces- 
sible foot-holds which the bristling rocks afforded. 

There was but little choice. One vast, unbroken 
pile of broken rocks rose before us ; and scarcely 
was one height surmounted when another, steeper 
and more frowning than the last, leaped up in our 
pathway. Great, bare, sharp-edged boulders Avere 
piled everywhere, and the faint line of a path twisted 
md zig-zagged beside and under them in all directions 
so angularly that a few lengths would carry those 
ahead of me out of sight. Thus, often could I easily 
fancy myself alone on that desolate mountain ; and 
climbing silently on and on, with nothing in my ears 
but the panting of my weary horse and the whistle 
of the increasing wind, and nothmg before my 



154 NOT AT HOME. 

immediate eyes save acres upon acres of b^o^vn rocks, 
I could send my imagination forth into ^vider, deeper, 
higher bounds than it had ever known. 

' ' Myself was lost — 

Gone from me like an ache; and what remaiu'd 
Became a part of the univei'sal space"; 

and I could feel my life expand to try these new 
limits, and grow purer as that keen wind went 
searching through for whatsoe'er there was amiss. 
Then suddenly the sound of human voices would 
dissipate 

' ' The consciousness that seemed but now dissolved 
Into an essence rarer than its own, 
And I was narrowed to myself once more." 

"We had passed the last vestige of green. The 
snow lay heavih^ crusted on ever3'thing except where, 
slightly melted, it converted our path into a stream, 
freezing as it ran. and rendering progress almost 
impossible. Climbing now became not only a grave, 
a serious matter, but one of undeniable danger. 
The animals could flounder upward but a few ste])s 
at a time, and then, clinging in a slanting and pain- 
ful position, would wait, without the riders' bidding, 
to catch their breath again. Often we would dis- 
mount and walk, to start the benumbed and sluggish 
circulation. But wet feet and want of breath would 
soon drive us to our saddles again. The faces of the 
party were as blue and pinched as if it were a winter 
day. It were easy to fancy that the months were 
out on a mad frolic and that we poor mortals were 
their playthings ; that August, weary of such common 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 155 

toys, had tossed us up the mountain out of her way, 
and that December had run down to pick us up, to 
breathe upon us and to try his powers at trans- 
hguration. 

" Down swept the chill wind from the mountain peak, 
From the snow five thousand summers old ; 
On open wold and boulder bleak, 

It had gathered all the cold i 

And whirled it like sleet on the wanderer's cheek." 

But there is always another than the gloomy side 
of a picture. Delicate flowers of purple and of white 
smiled sweetly and reassm'ingly from the very edges 
of the snow. Occasional birds, the like of which 
we never saw before, hopped about us, sending their 
strange, shrill call out over the wide waste. And 
best of all — the ever-changing, ever-broadening view, 
the long line of the diminishing valley, the pines 
and clouds beneath us, the white crest of the Snowy 
Range seemingly on our level, and, Avithal. that grati- 
fying feeling of surmounting every obstacle, of 
trampling them beneath our feet ! 

Presently there was a shout ahead, and tearing our 
eyes from the backward scenery Ave beheld the fore- 
most of our party upon the summit, waving what 
should have been 

"A banner with tliis strange device — Excelsior ! " 

No rest now, mv faithful broncho: no laffirinir 
for breath or scenery, no waiting for loiterers I Up 
we go — scrambling, clinging, slipping, but mounting. 
Just a little further, just another effort hke the last I 
And here we are — on the summit of our hearts' 



156 NOT AT ROME. 

desire — at last. The exultation of that one moment 
were worth a climb tenfold more difficult, with all 
the toil and breathlessness and discouragement. 

Dismounting, we passed at once to the United 
States Signal Station to regale ourselves on hot coffee 
(25 cents per cup) beside a red-hot stove. Having 
thawed somewhat, we learned m brief that this sta- 
tion was built in 1882, though the place as an obser- 
vation point is much older ; that the telegraph line 
from the peak down was recently sold for $10, 
though it cost the Government more than $1,000 
(it was impossible tokeejD it up in winter); that reports 
are sent to Washington monthly; that the stove, 
fuel, supplies, mail, etc., for the station are carried by 
burro trains ; that the wind often blows at the rate 
of 132 miles per hour; that the thermometer often 
falls 10 deg. below zero ; that sometimes observers 
can see 100 miles — so said a poster, for the benefit 
of the ''tenderfoot." 

I have sat in the shade of a magnolia tree, shel- 
tered from the ardent beams of a January sun, 
flowers at my feet, birds and insects all about me. 
And here was the opposite, the antipodes of such 
experience. Now I stood sheltered from the bleak 
north wind of August, snow at my feet, wrapped in 
huge cloak and shawl, dreariness and iciness all 
about me — 14,147 feet above the level of the sea. 

View Feom the SuMMrr of Pike's Peak. — The 
Descent. 

The view from the summit of Pike's Peak is a 
surprise and a deliglit to even those reared amid 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 157 

mountain scenery. The top, much of a peak as it 
appears, is an almost level waste of seventy acres of 
wildly scattered rocks. I know of nothing with 
which to compare it. It is the dreariest, most lonely 
and desolate spot I ever stood upon. Hocks — brown, 
bare, cruel, sterile, rugged— rocks, rocks, everywhere. 
Wind, rain, frost, snow, time, have all wrought upon 
this pile in vain. All combined, they have only worn 
S(mie sharp edges smooth and settled them more 
firmly in their beds. 

But the view ! Come stand on this dizzy rock and 
feast your eyes. I^orthward Gray's Peak lifts its 
rival head, and nortliwestward the green hollow of 
South Park can be plainly seen. From south to west 
the Snowy Range seems one continuous line of white, 
with the purple clouds rising and falling below it, 
like a sea striving to reach high-tide mark. South- 
ward we looked upon Bald Mountain, over two 
thousand feet below. Eastward across the vast 
])lains the eye seemed to find no limit. Just below 
us, twelve airy miles, lay Colorado Springs, its well- 
laid streets and avenues dividing the darker blocks, 
looking like a giant's checker-board. The courses of 
the Platte and the Arkansas seemed monster ser- 
pents winding across the prairie land. On clear, 
days Denver may be seen, eighty miles to the north, 
and Pueblo as many to the south. But on this 
morning a faint mist made all things appear indistinct 
and unreal, as if jealous that ISTature should be so 
careless of her most choice objects. By aid of the 
excellent glass at Uncle Sam's Signal Station, new 
objects revealed themselves ; and so absorbed were 
we with the novelty of position and indescribable 



158 NOT AT HOME. 

beauties of scenery that not until the guide came to 
say that the others of the party had been gone some 
twenty minutes did we reahze how time was flying. 
With a last look at that boundless eastward view we 
left the sheltered door of the station, and, drawing 
our heavy wraps around us, picked our Avay over to 
the stables, where the horses stood shivering under 
their blankets. 

Our watches were holdmg up their warning hands 
to 10 when the guide, after a close examination of 
our horses' feet, girths, and trappings, announced 
everything ready for the descent. That descent ! I 
hope I have not exhausted your patience nor my 
vocabulary, for I shall need the strongest samples of 
each for the going down. In ascending, you have 
always a height just ahead from which something 
new is to be seen, and to surmount which will bring 
you nearer to the object of your climbing. But in 
descending you lack that mental stimulus. Your de- 
sire has been gratified. The eye has been fed upon 
Avhat the memory will be long in digesting. You 
look not up to inviting heights, but down awful, 
rugged, pathless steeps, 

*' With the misty earth below you, 
And tlie reeling skies above you." 

The wind was still blowing a gale, but the snow 
had melted more freely since our ascent, and the 
path was now a rushing stream, full of clay-colored 
water-falls that almost obliterated what little foot- 
hold there had been. I believe I am ordinarily 
courageous ; but I confess that as I paused upon the 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 159 

verge of that downward path my heart sank within 
me at the prospect. 

My horse had proven himself a good chmber ; but 
now, as I sat back in the saddle and tried to aid him 
by holding him up, the severity of the bits made 
him toss his head and fret ; and so, unable to pick 
his steps, he would go clattering down among the 
rocks, as often out of the path as in it. Then he 
would stop with a snort, and pull on the bits, and 
get his four iron-shod feet back into the path with 
as much dispatch as I would permit. What was the 
matter? My friend and the guide were already 
three or four turns below me, and I was losing time. 
At last "an idea struck me." Why not give the 
horse full rein and let him go? Running to meet 
dangers half way and grappling them is the only 
true way to meet them anyhow. Then somethino- 
of the old spirit repossessed me, and I thought— 

" He who fears the chasm's edge, 
. Were never the one to see 

The torment and the triumph hid 
Where the deep surges be." 

Tying a knot in the long rein with benumbed 
fingers, and throwing it over the horn of the saddle, 
I "touched not and handled not," but let him go! 
And he went. With a long sigh, Avhich seemed to 
say, " You poor ignoramus from the prairie country, 
why couldn't you have done that long ago?" he 
stretched his neck down and went about hi's work 
with the air of one who has been doubted and is 
anxious to prove himself. Swiftly, but oh! how 
cai-efully did h« measure the way,"' setting his feet 



160 NOT AT HOME. 

one before the other through narrows, cautiously 
tilting an insecure stone before bearing his weight 
upon it, in and out, and down, down, all in such a 
masterful way that from at first seeing nothing but 
a drooping head and a mass of brown rocks, I grew 
into the full enjoyment of the scenes unfolding and 
changing below and around me. 

At this rate I soon overtook the other two. The 
guide smiled as I came up — or rather down — and said : 
"I thought you'd get along all right, or I'd have 
waited. He's been up here before. But just watch 
this one ;" and he started the friend's horse, keeping 
close to its side the while. Such an exhibition of 
awkwardness I have seldom seen. The horse, a pen- 
sive, spiritless, weary creature, seemed wholly indif- 
ferent as to its own or its rider's safety, holding no 
higher notion of duty and responsibility than to just 
keep its feet going. Often its fore-feet would be in 
the watery path, its hind-feet on a ledge at the side, 
and it would seem literally to stand on its silly head. 
At one such performance the stirrup-strap broke. 
Three times on the steepest path it gave way, and 
the third time was replaced by one of my stirrups 
(for my horse had been saddled for a gentleman). 
My friend bore it all with the heroic patience engen- 
dered only in the school-room, until, coming to an 
unusually abrupt place, her horse made a sudden 
wheel, and landed himself on a flat rock at the side 
and several feet above. I laughed in spite of myself 
at the stupid way in which he stood sprawled out 
just as he had landed ; at the idiotic stare he fastened 
on my trusty steed as he skillfully took what he had 
refused; and at the look of supreme disgust depicted 



LET! ERS FROM COLORADO. 161 

on my friencrs face, as she informed the guide that 
she preferred to walk to the valley, where she hoped 
the animal could keep his feet. 

We soon left the trail, the guide mounting the 
refused horse ; and the way he went dashing over 
the foot-hills was a caution — to stubborn bronchos. 
Remounting again on level ground, the friend and I 
had an uneventful ride in, while the guide took a 
short cut to the hotel, so as to have the team ready 
for the homeward journey. 

We soon overtook the remainder of the party, and 
chatting and laughing over the happenings of the 
day, we reached Seven Lakes by I o'clock. We 
had stood the trip well, the guide told us ; no one had 
grown faint, dizzy-headed, or sea-sick, as so many do. 
And especially were those ladies to be congratulated 
who had taken their first horseback ride to the sum- 
mit of Pike's Peak. Before leaving the hotel the fol- 
lowing itemized bill was thrust under our weary eyes : 

For breathing full breath within radius of 100 

yards of house |1 75 

For looking at stars before sunset, at 75 cents 

per look 2 25 

For warming both feet at one time, at $3 per 

foot 4 00 

For wearing off whitewash, at 50 cents per square 

inch 1 00 

For using organ, at $1 per song 2 50 

For asking questions, at 1-2 cent per question.. . 1 22^ 
For saying " Oh, I'm so tired !" at 25 cents per 

say 2 50 

For privilege of returning at some future time. . 8 42^ 

Total .$23 65 

We paid it. 



163 NOT AT HOME, 

Rainbow Falls. — Grand Caverns. — Garden op 

THE GODF, 

The day after our return from Seven Lakes, a 
party of three of us started on our last tour of 
investigation and pleasure ere our morrow's depart- 
ure from Colorado Springs. Disregarding the train 
which runs hourly to Manitou, we secured carriage 
and driver and were soon rolling along the broad, 
tree-fringed road which leads to the resort, via Col- 
orado City, Pausing only for brief refreshment 
at the Iron Springs, which terminate one of Manitou's 
pleasant, bewildering streets, we entered the Ute 
Pass. This road derives its name from the Ute 
Indians, who traveled it to and from their reservation 
before it was as smooth and well kept as now. It 
was built fifteen years ago at an expense of $20,000, 
being cut in places through solid granite. Between 
the high and narrow mountain walls there is just 
room for the wagon road and the Fountain, the 
stream I have mentioned in a previous letter as pass- 
ing through Manitou. 

The first surprise Nature had in store for us this 
day was the Rainbow Falls. We had driven two 
miles, more or less (for I've quit trying to accurately 
estimate mountain distances), up the Ute Pass when 
the thunder of falling water broke pleasingly upon 
our ears. We could hear it a long time before we 
saw it, and this so whetted our appreciation for the 
oft-heard-of falls that I don't know just how we did 
tumble out of the carriage and down the long stair- 
way which leads to its frothy foot. Like Lady Mac- 
beth's guests, we stood not upon the order of our 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 163 

going, but "went at once. Anyway, we found our- 
selves on the small platform below the falls, our newly 
developed love of climbing impelling us over the 
great smooth rocks, nearer and nearer to the descend- 
ing water, until our light dresses were all flecked and 
dampened by the reaching spray. 

The waters make their mighty leap from an over- 
hanging rock, and the descending sheets are broken, 
by the points below, into a cloud of snowy spray, 
that seems ever striving to rise whence it first 
sprang. Aci'oss the cascade's front, just above the 
never-dissolving mist, Iris each morning weaves 
her seven brilliant colors into a delicate span, fasten- 
ing the ends to the rocks on either side ; and hence 
the name. The drive from Rainbow Falls continues 
over what is said to be the finest carriage road in the 
State. A quarter of a mile forward and the road 
makes an abrupt turn, and by a sudden ascent doubles 
upon its track, so that the occupants of the carriage 
may look directly down upon the portion of the road 
they have just passed. From this point it is one 
incessant climb over a made road, until the carriage 
has reached the mouth of the Manitou Grand Cav- 
erns. 

We said among ourselves that we would have 
been better pleased had we been obliged to scramble 
to the top and to crawl guideless into the caverns. It 
seemed too much like receiving something for noth- 
ing, to alight at the very entrance, register, and, with 
bright lamp in hand, to follow a decorous guide from 
end to end of the caverns, to walk erect all the way, 
and to come out with dresses unsoiled. No cobwebs, 
no bats nor owls, no crawlini>: through lonn^, windino- 



164 NOT AT IIOMB. 

passages, no heaps of human bones over which to 
use the thrilhng tales [ had prepared beforehand ! It 
was a disappointment. 

The principal objects of interest within the cavern's 
man}^ recesses are the light-house, the giant's footr 
print, the silver cord, the vineyard, the shepherd-boy, 
with flock and dogs ; the dairy and churn, suicide 
rock, lovers' lane, where at its narrow exit the guide 
remarked that ladies accompanied by gentlemen 
were required to pay toll ; the bridal chamber, with 
its damp, misty veil ; stalagmites in the form of pond 
lilies, on the bottom of what has been at one time an 
underground lake ; and passages, columns, motionless 
figures, and flowers, and studies on every side. Prob- 
ably the most marvelous of all these natural forma- 
tions is the theatre, begirt with three galleries and 
beneath a dome 100 feet high. Within one of the gal- 
leries sits a musician ; before him, what is called the 
grand pipe-organ. The organ consists of clusters of 
countless musical stalactites, each possessing a tone 
peculiar to itself. Some of the finer ones show trans- 
parency when a lighted match is held behind them. 
The opening chords, struck by metal bars in the 
musician's hand, yielded long-echoing tones that 
blended and reverberated in unexplored chambers. 
The "Sweet By-andBye" following these introduc- 
tory notes sent my thoughts some hundreds of miles 
east to where, on Memorial Day, I last heard it ren- 
dered by our own home band; while "White Wings," 
the second selection, took these same fitful thoughts 
and wafted them to a little city on the Lower Wal 
nut. The tones of the cathedral bell, struck from 
a large stalactite, made me think of the stories I 



LETTERS FROM COLOR ADO. 165 

have read of little hamlets, buried by avalanches, 
whose church bells ring faintly through the snow 
each Sabbath ; or of the hollow knell of storm-tossed 
ships full of lost souls. And when he struck the 
chimes — soft, musical, and far-sounding — it was but 
little to imagine, there in those faintly lighted sub- 
terranean vaults, that Pan was somewhere concealed 
with his sjnnbolic pipes, breathing upon them " the 
music of the spheres." 

And all these wonders have been formed by the 
mere dropping of water; are being formed; for 
look — many of these stalactites are damp and drip- 
ping. Years, ages, these dro])s have been clinging 
and hardening in the deep gloom. They were drop- 
ping when the world bowed down to Caesar; they 
were dropping when "Troy divine " was taken ; they 
were dropping great N'ature's tears, perchance, when 
the solid earth trembled beneath the weight of the 
Cross on Calvary. And so on and on down the ages 
until we were born, we of the nineteenth century ; 
and so they will continue to drop and cling and 
harden long after you and I and all of us are under 
ground and cold as they — 

" So long as the river flows, 

So long as the heart hath passions, 
So long as life hath woes." 

A two-mile drive out on our homeward way 
brought us to that surprise of all surprises — the Gar- 
den of the Gods. The short ride through Mushroom 
Park does not in the least prepare one for what lies 
beyond the walls of red and yellow sandstone. 

Nature has piled together in promiscuous confusion 



166 NOT AT HOME. 

the grotesque with the picturesque, the sublime with 
the ridiculous. Of the latter, the Irishman, an exact 
profile statue, is the most striking. The camels, the 
deer's head, the lion, and the seal and bear, were 
each readily named by our party before the guide 
had designated them. Among the more imposing 
are the Cathedral Spires, Melrose Abbey, the Lean- 
ing Tower — the battlement wall pierced high up by 
a single round window, the Tower of Babel, 330 feet 
high ; the giant Sentinels that guard the gateway, 
and Balance Kock. This latter is a cube, large as a 
dwelling house; is thought to weigh about 125 tons, 
and yet is perched on a base not three feet in diame- 
ter. Can this be Sisyphus's rock? Wo, for that has 
never ceased its rolling. Then it must be Rhea's 
gift to Kronos, set here as a monument to woman's 
tact. How weird and yet how awful are these huge, 
deformed beauties ! " The rocks have gone masquer- 
ading," says IngersoU, " in every sort of absurd cos- 
tume and character. The colors of the make-up are 
varied from black through all the browns and drabs 
to pure white, and then again through yellows and 
buffs and pinks up to staring red. 

The Garden of the Gods — Hesperides! Wo, for 
though the steeps and precipices are here, there are 
no fruits, no Elysian flowers. Nor can this be 
Olympia. What pleasures, what congenialities here 
for the soft-voiced Muses, the gentle Graces, for the 
perfect Apollo, the pensive Yesta, or for Venus, god- 
dess of love 1 

This, then, is a nook in Jove's domain, a resort, 
if you please, for his majesty when in one of the 
thunderous moods in whicli Hera, wife of his bosom. 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 167 

was wont to send him. Here, perhaps, were confined 
the Titans, Giants, and Cyclops, afterwards to make 
war on heaven itself. Here on these still glowing 
forges wrought the mighty Vulcan. Here were 
Jove's thunderbolts fashioned, and the lightnings 
held in chains. Here Chaos might still give vent to 
wrathful mood, and upheave the solid rock in resent- 
ful anger. This is the ideal nursery for the Aloides, 
or a private work for the vengeful Mars in time of 
peace. Here the philosophical old Silenus might 
meditate, joined by Minerva in her sterner mo- 
ments. Satyr, Faun, and Centaur might here find 
pastime ; Milo might exercise his muscle in setting 
to rights what Chaos had disturbed, or even Proteus 
might come in some of his many disguises. But a 
garden for the milder gods — never ! not as we have 
been always brought to think of fair Olympia. 

For all this, it is truly beautiful. Imagine bright, 
terra-cotta cliff's rising in isolated majesty out of a 
carpet of soft green, interspersed with slender cliffs 
of pale gray no less imposing ; the tufts of moss at 
your feet parting to show a vivid red soil ; tiny 
rivers, like Pactolus, running over beds of carmine 
and gold ; midway up tower and rock and glowing 
spire, the white slender stems and silver leaves of the 
young Cottonwood, a fine contrast against the burn- 
ing background; around and about you, between 
clefts, glimpses of the snowy line of the eternal 
mountains ; and above you, bending on every side 
to meet and com])lete all, the unf at homed blue of a 
summer sky — imagine all this, I say, and you have 
a faint outline of the Garden of the Gods. 



168 NOT AT UOME. 



" Beatjtifut- Denver." 

Den\'er, Col 
We Jeft Colorado Springs at 5 o'clock on the eve- 
ning of the 4th, bidding adieu to the pretty httle 
city and its attractive ally, Manitou,\vith some regret. 
We were to have started at 8:-t( > ; but some trouble with 
the engine delayed the El Moi'o train, and so we were 
late in getting oflf. Alas ! we heard from that engine 
again; for, behind as we were, it crept along until 
Palmer Lake was reached, where its " Ten mmutes 
for lunch" were prolonged into half an hour to 
repair engine. 

While they were patching it up, in the presence of 
a group of curious but impatient passengers, we set 
about investigating. On one side the train was that 
novel little " model depot" which you see on all the 
time-cards of the D. and R. G. On the other side 
lay the broad and graceful sheet of water from 
which the place takes its name. Here the Eailroad 
Company has erected summer-houses and dancing 
pavilion, and provided a large boat-house with a fleet 
of handsome boats, skiffs, and yachts. The close 
proximity of Glen Park and Monument Park makes 
Palmer Lake a favorite resort. P>y the way, this 
lake is on the great Divide. Streams to the north- 
ward join the Platte, while those on the south side 
mingle witli the waters of our own Arkansas. 

From this point it is a steady fall of more than 
ninety feet to Denver, and down this grade our dis- 
abled engine dropped by sheer force of gravitation, 
until after Larkspur had been passed ; then, out of 
breath, it drew us upon a siding somewhere among 



LETTEBU FUOM COLORADO. 169 

the dark foot-hills, and, " wrapping the draperies of 
its couch about it, sank to pleasant slumber." Here 
was an interesting situation: tired, sleepy, no pros- 
pects of a hotel within the next hour and a half, and 
with an over-crowded, narrow-gauge chair car as the 
nearest approach to a sleeper. JS'evertheless I will 
say right here, ^^«/' parenthese, that the Denver and 
Kio Grande employees are among the most polite 
and accommodating I have met. 

"Well, we sat there on that siding, looking at our 
watches, reading time-cards, counting the lamps, 
yawning, and listening to crying babies and fretting 
older foUvS, until every blessed train on that line 
going both ways passed us. Why, they just paraded 
up and down that main track on purpose to tan- 
talize us with their able-bodied engines, I know they 
did. Even a great lumbering freight blew its smoke 
contemptuously in our eyes, and drowned the faint 
wheeze of our engine with a hoarse laugh. When 
the north-bound Denver and Utah express came up 
and stopped alongside us, the traveling men jumped 
off, grips in hand, each one asking the very question 
you are asking: "Why not board this train ?" But a 
few magic words from the conductor put each back 
in his seat, and soon the two green e3^es of the out- 
going express glimmered hke stars up the track and 
were lost round the curve. There was great rejoic- 
ing when we at last moved, and greater when the 
brakeman opened our coach door at 10 o'clock to 
say, with startling emphasis : " Denver ! Union 
depot !" 

Tired? You'd have thought so could you have 
seen us stagger through the nearest car door, into the 



170 NOT AT HOME. 

nearest hack, with orders for the nearest hotel ! But 
a good night's rest, a refreshing bath, breakfast, and 
the reading of a glowing local in the morning paper, 
announcing our arrival, revived in us something like 
an interest in the affairs of this life, and we set out 
to ascertain m what kind, of a wilderness that train 
had dropped us. 

" I cannot tell you how glad I am that you are to 
see beautiful Denver," writes a friend in a recent 
letter. And those are just the words—" Beautiful 
Denver !" 

Kow I hear some of my more practical readers say, 
''Yes, there she goes off on an enthusiastic flight 
about the " Queen City of the West," the surround- 
ing scenery, and the enchanting views from this or 
that point, instead of giving us some substantial 
facts and figures as to the wealth, industries, and 
resources of the place." It's real unkind of you to 
tallv so, and behind my back too. But I'll follow the 
Golden Kule this time (I always do when I think of 
it), and give you, from a tiny pamphlet issued by the 
Windsor, statistics — the pure and simple essence. 

Denver, the Metropolis of the West, lies on the 
border of the plains, within twelve miles of the 
Eockies, at an altitude of 5,197 feet. Where in 
1858 there were only log cabins and tents and 
wagons enough to shelter 100 people, there are now 
over 10,000 buildings and more than 70,000 people. 
Her industries are three-fold — viz., mining, stock- 
raising, and agriculture. The first is the most impor- 
tant. About 75,000 lodes have been discovered, and 
of these the average annual yield since the discovery, 
twenty years ago, has been over $7,000,000. Of the 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. HI 

$22,500,000 in 1S85, $5,000,000 was gold,$13,(»(»(>,0(»o 
silver, $4,000,000 lead, and $500,000 copper, the sil- 
ver of course being first in importance. 

Stock-raising is the second source of revenue to 
Denver. The estimated yield of cattle alone, includ- 
ing shipments, home consumption, hides, tallow, etc., 
is $3,500,000 per annum; that of sheep $l,300,00ti. 
Denver is the great slaughtering and shi])ping point. 

Agriculture in Colorado necessarily depends upon 
irrigation. Hence farming is confined to thevalle^^s 
of the streams, the lands between being useful only 
for grazing. There are perhaps 900 miles of irrigat- 
ing canals, rendering tillable some 1 5,000,000 acres 
of land. The irrigation companies charge for water 
from $1.50 to $3.00 per acre per annum. Besides 
tlie grains, vegetables, and fruits similar to ours, 
alfalfa is receiving much attention. It is said to 
almost equal corn in fattening qualities ; and cattle 
taken from range in the fall can be made ready for 
spring market by feeding them on alfalfa during the 
winter. Then there is this advantage : that three or 
four crops can be cut each season from the same 
ground, the average yield being from four to six tons 
per acre. I was glad to notice western Kansas giv- 
ing attention to its growins^. 

Then, too, Denver is fast developing into a manu- 
facturing centre. Here are found rolling-mills, iron 
foundries, smelters, machine shops, woolen-mills, 
glass works, carriage, harness, and shoe factories, 
breweries, etc. In 1884 the yield of her factories 
was reckoned at $22,000,000. The city is built of 
her own material, so to speak — brick kilned in her 
suburbs, sandstone, limestone, and marble, with a 



172 NOT AT HOME. 

pretty pinlc trachyte much used in trimmings. Coarse 
lumber is procured from tlie high pine forests, but 
tlie fine hard wood must all be brought from the 
East. 

Denver has a climate of her own, and may success- 
fully boast of more sunshiny days, of the privilege of 
seeing the sun more days in the year and for more 
hours each day, than any city in this portion of 
the country. Her schools are her pride. There are 
twenty-one buildings, with an aggregate value of 
$800,000. Besides these there are institutions of 
higher learning: Denver University, Wolfe Hall, 
Jarvis Hall, a girls' seminary, and others. There are 
about sixty church buildings in the city, approxi- 
mately valued at $1,000,000. 

Denver is the centre of thirteen distinct lines of 
railroad, tlie oldest of which, a IGU-mile road to 
Cheyenne, was built in 1S70. Many of the great 
eastern trunk lines have their representatives here. 
The Union Depot is constructed of lava stone, being 
503 feet in length by 65 feet wide, and surmounted 
by a tower 108 feet high. The cost was about 
$500,000, and the plan is the most complete and con- 
venient I have ever seen. Among other fine build- 
ings might be mentioned the City Building, County 
Court House, Windsor Hotel, and Tabor Grand 
Opera House ; but of those hereafter. Foundations 
are laid for United States Custom House and Post- 
oifice building, and for the State Capitol. 

All streets are lighted by the Brush incandescent 
electric lamp ; the American District Telegraph and 
the telephone are in full force over the city, its sub- 
urbs, and to interior towns ; the central part of the 



LETTERS FUOM COLORADO. 173 

city is heated b}' the Home Steam Heating Company; 
the lire alarm has 32 miles of wire and 59 signal sta- 
tions; the fire department apparatus comprises one 
steamer, one engine, 5 hose carriages, and one 4-horse 
hook and ladder truck ; the protective force consists 
of 50 police and 30 patrolmen, with 30 stations 
equipped with electric signals and telephone connec- 
tions; there are 136 artesian wells from 300 to 1,105 
feet deep ; water supply is pumped from the Platte, 
and is distributed through 40 miles of mains, aver- 
aging 3,000,000 gallons per day exclusive of irri- 
gating ditches and wells; a branch of the United 
States Mint is here used for assays only ; the shops 
of the D. and E. G. Eailroad, and those of half a 
dozen other roads are here, employing about 800 
men each; and lastly, Denver has six dail}^ news- 
papers, one being in German, and a score of weeklies 
and monthlies. 

There ! I trust I have been prosy enough for the 
most statistically inclined, and that I \\\Q.y venture to 
promise something of a different, if not a '' flighty," 
nature in my next. 

" A Peovince Covered with Houses." 

It was my mournful duty on Saturday afternoon 
to see the friend oft" on her homeward journey. 
Up the steps of the south-bound express I followed 
her with a woful countenance, performing the last 
sad service in my power by seeing her comfortably 
settled amidst valise, shawl-straps, bandbox, grip, 
lunch basket, hand-satchel, umbrella, specimen box, 
fan, wraps, sketch-book, and the few other necessaries. 



17-1 iV'6>7' AT IIOMK 

I had exhausted my eloquence (hence the deficiency 
of subsequent letters) in trying to prevent this 
departure. She had already remained longer than 
she had intended ; and nothing but the fascinating 
company in which she had been constantly thrown 
could possibly have detained her. That's what she 
said. You ask her. Well, the conductor's " All 
aboard !" sounded kind o' funeral knell-ish ; and I 
wended my way back to our^my — room, with 
nobody's arm to take, and nobody's parasol to knock 
my hat over my eyes, and nobody to say " Oh, isn't 
that prett}^?" to. 

I sat down on the edge of a chair in the centre of 
the room, and they both seemed too large for me. 
Denver seemed like a very large city, and 1 felt 
small and insignificant, and very much alone. I 
stood at the window a long time, refusing to be com- 
forted. I mean I would have refused if any one 
had offered. Now everybody Imows that to be busy 
is the only cure for the blues. So I buttoned my 
gloves again, slammed the door, shot down the street 
and around the corner, like a man with a bank check 
at two minutes of four, rushed into a book-store, anc 
— bought a map of the city. Once back in my 
room with the map spread out on the bed, I fell 
beside it in penftential attitude, and after a brief 
study, located myself, and stuck a pin there. Then 
I made a discovery. We had been wondering ever 
since our arrival why the sun persisted in rising m 
the southeast. Here the mystery unraveled. The 
streets in the original site of the city run with the 
semi-points of the compass ; and what we toolc for 
east windows, really front to the — the — well, some 



LETTEliS FROM COLOR ADO l-JG 

other direction. I must write tlie friend of this fact , 
it will be a sor.ice of consolation to her, 

Sunday morning, when the bells from the three 
score church steeples were lifting up their voices as 
one, when all Denver was on wheels — four, three, or 
two wiieels — on its way to worship or otherwhere, I 
sat pondering where I should go to hear a sermon. 

The continual recurrence to my mind of these lines 
kept annoying me : 

"wisdom in running brooks, 

Sermons in stones, and good in everything." 



street car after a few more moments. Having ridden 
to city liniits, I walked on wherever Colorado's 
rare wild flowers beckoned, and at length (at full 
length) rested under a spreading tree on the banks 
of Cherry Creek, a stream that winds in and out of 
the city. You needn't ask me anything about the 
sermon Kature preached to me. I didn't take my 
note book (I noticed it lying on the table as 1 left 
my room, and forgot it). It would be like unrhym- 
ing a great poem to attempt its interpretation ; and 
besides, it is not best to take such things second-hand 
when you have 'running brooks," "stones," flowers, 
and "everything" close about you, in which to find 
them all — wisdom, sermons, and good. 

I was surprised early this week by a call from 
Miss Hattie Bowman, Mr. John Morrison, his 
brother, and his daughters Mabel and Olca. And 
I think I neglected to mention that I had the 
pleasure of meeting Mrs. Shelden, Miss Lamb, and 



m NOT AT HOME. 

Miss Fullinwiaer at Coluiado Springs ; and Mr. and 
Mrs Murdock Mr. and Mrs. Cooper, Mr. Van 
Denberg, and Mr. Gardner, at Manitou All seemed 
to be enjoying themselves, and my only wonder is 
why more of Butler County's people cannot tear 
themselves away from business and heat, and breathe 
freely for two months out of the year. More could, 
I am convinced, if they only thought so, and would 
find their business and themselves the better for it. 
They certainly are ignorant of the pleasure and 
profit they miss by remaining at home from one year's 
end to the next. 

Yesterday morning I spent several hours in 
Taylor's Emporium of Home and Foreign Curiosities, 
among elk, deer, antelope, mountain sheep, buffalo, 
wolves, sea serpents, lions, Indian arrows, pottery 
and bead work, endless displays of minerals, native 
jewelry, coral, sea-shells, Chinese work, furs, rugs, 
birds, and reptiles. 

Next, after a shy glance at the city map, I piloted 
myself to the Tabor Grand Opera House, which is 
always open for the tourist's inspection. Though 
much smaller than I had been led to expect, 1 found 
it elegant and tasty in all particulars. It was 
erected by ex-Senator Tabor, at an expense of 
upwards of $700,000, and is a five-story structure of 
stone and pressed brick, 200 x 125 feet. Besides the 
parquette and family circle, there are one gallery 
and six richly furnished boxes. The season reopens 
Monday, the 15th, with Gillette's ' Ileid by the 
Enemy." 

Lastly, r .nsited Uie County Court tlouse. and fell 
myself trreatly refreshed for my stroll about its 



LETTEUS FliOM COLOBADO. 177 

neatly kept yard and the half hour beside its foun- 
tain, which is surmounted by a graceful statue of 
Aphrodite. The exterior of the building presents 
an imposing appearance, with its 108-foot tower 
crowned by a bronze statue of Justice. Its pillars, 
stairs, and wide halls, traversmg the entire building, 
are all of marble; its doors are of grained glass, 
with frames of richest wood ; its glittering chandelier 
drops by a shining rod from the dome through two 
floors, and its many spacious rooms are carpeted 
and furnished in keeping with all things else in a 
great and growing country. Its cost was $500,000. 
Upon reflection, f was obliged to confess, being 
pressetl, that Arapahoe County, Colorado, has a court 
house as good, at least, as Butler County has, even if 
it is a younger county. Don't understand that I've 
gone about conceding this to every Colorado-ite I've 
met, after the fashion of many tourists who remember 
nothing at home as good as what they see here. "• I'd 
rather be a dog and bay the moon, than such a" — 
Kansan ! Xo, I simply admit it with reluctance, being 
closely questioned, and add that I shall take pleasure 
in showing them through our Court House should 
they ever visit the " State of Butler." This addition, 
however, is usually made to quiet, stay-at-home look- 
ing citizens. 

I met aud enjoyed a twenty minutes with John 
J. Fetzer, Superintendent of Public Instruction, from 
whom I learned that county institutes are held in 
but six counties in the State, and that these are of 
but two weeks" duration, owing to the small number 
of teachers and the expense attached thereto ; that 
there is a growing sentiment in the State towards the 



ilB NOT AT HOME. 

free text-book system ; and that there is strong hope 
of Colorado's ado}3ting a course of systematic tem- 
perance instruction in her common schools. The 
State bchool Library contains 8,200 volumes. 

A cUmb up ten tiights of stairs to the Observa- 
tory is Avell worth the exertion, for the climber is 
rewarded with a bird's-eye view of the entire city and 
much of the surrounding country. The Colorado, or 
front range of mountains, ma}^ be seen for an extent 
of two hundred miles. Westward Mount Evans and 
Mount Eosalie look over the line of the Snowy 
Range ; Long's Peak towers far to the north, with 
Gray's Peak to the west rising higher, and — yes, 
there is the snowy head of Pike's Peak, still majestic 
and commanding, though eighty miles to the south. 
To the north, east, and south, the unbounded plain 
stretches away into smoky indistinctness. 

The excavation for the State Capitol building may 
be seen. The building is to be 295 x 192 feet, 326 
feet high, and surmounted by a statue of Colorado. 
The flag-crowned dome of the panoramic Battle of 
Gettysburg may be seen, the commanding front of 
the Union Depot, the City Hall, Opera House, the 
Windsor Hotel, the College Buildings, the Railroad 
Shops, the Episcopal Mission ; block after block of 
solid walls of business houses, the miles of street rail- 
way, and the dense, unbroken shade of its eccentric 
streets. Those trees ! How grateful and cool they 
look to the high-perched observer on a midsummer 
afternoon ; for he is looking down upon more of a 
forest than a city— 10,000 buildings and 400,000 
shade trees. 

How can this be, you ask, on what was twenty 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 179 

years ago as treeless and barren as the plain around 
it? I answer with one word— " water." A double 
stream of Avater flows through each street at the roots 
of these trees; and Denver is washing and sprinkhng, 
pumping and irrigating from morning till night. It 
is only thus, by the use of 3,000,000 gallons of water 
per day, that her citizens are able to hold in subjec- 
tion dust and sand, and to keep fresh and blooming 
her great torest-city. I am always charitable toward 
the man with a hobby, if that hobby be "Plant 
trees." Teacher, press, and pulpit cannot over- 
emphasize that doctrine. The longer the observer 
stands on his height and counts new additions and 
tries to trace the endless streets, the more he is 
impressed with the magnitude of the city below and 
around him. In fact, he comes to the Frenchman's 
wise conclusion in regard to London — i. e., that it 
is not a city at all, but a province covered with 
houses. 



Twelve Baskets of Fragments. 

I have forgotten all along to tell you : 

That Helen Hunt Jackson's house is in Colorado 
Springs— an interesting place, surrounded by trees, 
shrubs, and flowers. 

That Kansas is the best represented State in the 
Manitou resort, and that Governor Martin set the 
example before his commonwealth. 

That I witnessed while at the Springs a heavier 
fall of larger hail stones than I ever saw in 
Kansas. 



180 NOT AT HOME. 

That it has rained here every day save one during 
the past weelv. 

That many of the caves so interesting to tourists 
have been discovered by bands of boys, organized 
and encouraged by their teachers, this for the f)ur- 
pose of giving the adventurous spirit of the boys a 
healthy outlet. 

That I noticed the names of C. Y. Cain, wife, and 
daughters, on the register of the Seven Lakes Hotel 
under date of 1885. 

That many of my rainy afternoons have been 
spent in the reading-room and museum of the Denver 
Mercantile Library. The library is well fitted and 
neatly kept; the reading-room is orderly and well 
patronized ; the museum contains, among other 
things of interest, the gold pen with Avhich Colo- 
rado's Constitution was signed, a Mexican plough, 
a volume of Shakespeare dated 1795, a fragment 
from the top of Morro Castle, Havana, Cuba; rude 
carving from above altar of an old Mission Church, 
Pecos, ]S"ew Mexico; Aztec pottery and feather 
work, a Eevolutionary flint-lock used at Bunker Hill, 
and many relics of the civil war — such as mortar 
shells, bullets welded in air, sabres. Confederate 
money, etc. 

That the Chinese have a monopoly of the laundry 
business here, as throughout the State. 

That many fashionable people spend their summer 
in the mountains en hivouac. 

That Denver has the Salvation Army. 

That all the boats on Palmer Lake are named from 
characters in the " Mikado.'- 

That the Y. M. C. A. rooms — parlors, offices, read- 



LETTEPxS FROM COLORADO. 181 

ing-room, li})riuy, and assembly room — are a pleasant 
haunt for a '' stranger in a strange land/'' El Dorado 
should have a suite. 

That the panorama Battle of Gettysburg is here. 

That the average wages for city teachers here (in 
Denver) are $6t; ; those of country teachers $51 — 
official information. 

That I read in a daily the other morning a most 
heart-rending article under the doleful head-lines, 
"Kansas Krops. A Dismal Outlook for the Grass 
Hopper State." I presume in case we need aid this 
winter, Colorado will be ready to send it — by burro 
train. 

That Professor Piclvering and party from the East 
are establishing an observatory at Seven Lakes. 

That Pueblo has a daily paper named the Ojymion. 
Haven't heard which runs it, the editor or the 
editor's wife. 

That I saw yesterday a children's picnic excursion, 
a Masonic procession conducting a negro funeral, 
and the Salvation Army, all on the same streets at 
the same time. 

That I had the pleasure of going through the 
establishment of the Rocky Mountain News^ "the 
live and enterprising paper of the West," Saturday 
night just as they were about to print the sixteen- 
page Sunday morning paper. The basement is devoted 
to engine and presses, the first floor to the jobbing 
department, office of manager, etc.; second floor, 
editorial rooms editor-in-chief, city editor, and staff ; 
third floor, composing rooms ; the building is equip- 
ped with water, gas, elevators ; the paper runs into 
press " continuous!}^," from an immense cylinder, at 



189 NOT AT HOME. 

the rate of 10,000 ])oi' lioiir, and comes out printed 
on both sides, cut, pasted, and folded; the News 
employs 123 men, of whom forty work in the job- 
bing department; I regret that I haven't the time 
for details of this, to me, interesting visit. 

That a gentleman — a Ja3''-hawker — remarked that 
the Garden of the Gods wasn't much, that a Kansas 
cyclone could beat it all to pieces. Of course I agree 
with him. 

That I have received some four copies of the 
liqnihlican, which Avould have given me pleasure 
except that I nearly fainted over some of the typo- 
gTa})hical errors. Your proof -reader (save the 
mark!) had better leave the State before I return, 
for — 

" My heart is liot and restless, 
And my life is full of care ; 
And the burdens laid upon mc 
Seem greater than I can bear." 

That I have just now returned from the opening 
of the Tabor Grand Oi)era House — "Held by the 
Enemy," with Viola Allen as "Rachel McCreery" 
and AVm. Gillette himself as " Thos. Ilenr}' Bean" — 
a fair play and fairly presented. 

That I'm oft: to-morrow on the early morning 
train. Like O'Leary, "the rambling bum}) on my 
head must be large ; Til soon be en route again, and 
sorely puzzled to know whither." One of ni}- ances- 
tors must have been that rolling stone that gathers 
no moss. 

That it is to G. T. Xicholson, Assistant General 
Passenger Agent, Santa Fe, that I owe this late priv- 



IjyiTKUS FUOM COJXJRADO. 18-J 

ile<^c of anotlier ramble. I found him very attentive 
and accommodatinf(, and as large hearted as the 
great system he represents — tourists westward bound, 
please nota hene. 

That in every series of letters there must be one 
w]iose mission it is to gather the twelve baskets of 
fragments left from the others — a " scrap letter," so 
to speak ; and lastly — 

That this is it. 



Making a Gkace of Kece^sity. 

La .Junta, Col. 

"The American is, by nature, locomotive; he 
believes in change of air for health, change of resi- 
dence for success, change of society for improve- 
ment." So says some eminent English writer ; and 
certainly I am too patriotic to disclaim an alleged 
national characteristic. 

I scarcely know why I left Denver. It was cof>l 
and pleasant there, I had fonned some agreeable 
*' season friendsliips," and there was undoubtedly 
much to busy eyes and pen. But one soon wearies 
of hotel life and fare, however varied ; wearies of 
threading the noisy thoroughfares of the city, wea- 
ries of meetmg the unrecognizing eyes of strangers 
from day to day and from week to week. The 
ceaseless tinkle of the street car bell, the clatter of 
cart and carriage, the unv'arying cries of fruit 
vender and newsboy, and all the monotonous whir of 
business — who has not longed to leave them far 
behind, subjects only for a too familiar memory ? 



1»4 yOT AT HOME. 

" Wlm kuiiws it not — the iloatl ivcoil 
Of wcury librcs stivtchod with toil? 
The pulse that lluttcrs faint ami low, 
"Where suniiner's seething breezes blow '>." 

Yet 1 hardly know wliy I left, unless it was that 
the •• rolling- stone" blood in my veins, aforemen- 
tioned, protested against my longer " gathering- 
moss. "" So, after waiting to attend the opening of 
the C-rrand Opera House, I took the early train yes- 
terday morning, and ran down to Manitou. 
" En route I met an old schoolmate. Miss Jennie 
Moise, who is starring with the Heine Concert Com- 
pany. It seems, on leaving school, that she went 
East for the furtherance of her musical education, 
and having finished, joined the excellent company 
of which she is now a member. " I always fancied 
you would turn out txjji'iijut donna, Jennie," I said. 
'' And I always knew you'd make a newspaper cor- 
respondent," she retorted, and we laughed in the joy 
of our first greeting. For the remainder of the 
journej' we renewed our school-girl friendship, and 
talked of '' old times, old hopes, old friends," and of 
the gracious past, whose years between 

" Have taught some sweet, some bitter lessons, none 
Wiser than this — to spend in all things else, 
But of old friends to be most miserly.. 

Each year to aneient friendship adds a ring, 
As to an oak." 

Leaving ]\[iss "Moise and "Miss Bowman at Colorado 
Springs, I changed cars for Manitou, where it was 
my pleasure to meet ^Iv. and ]\[rs. IT. IT. Gardner 
and their daughter Carrie, and to s]'»end a few hours 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 185 

with Mr. and ^Irs. Murdock. They had j)(>st[)oned 
their jaunt to Wagon Wheel Gap, perhai)s indefi- 
nitely, and Mr. Murdock spoke of being at home 
by Saturday. Mr. Gardner, who had been under 
the physician's care, said that his going would depend 
altogether upon the dictates of the thermometer. 

I took the train for La Junta at 5 o'clock, stoppinic 
for supper at Pueblo, whose " black banners of indus- 
try " we soon left streaming in the wind behind us. 
La Junta was reached without delay or adventure 
at 1) o'clock ; it was after we reached it that the 
delay came. I had expected to remain over night, 
and was soon comfortably housed in the A. T. and 
S. F. Hotel — always noted for the excellency of its 
table and the politeness of its employees. 

But this morning I Avas met with the crushing 
information that " m}'- " train, due here at 9 a. m., 
had wandered into a ditch near Pierceville, Kansas, 
and would not be in until afternoon. I admit that 
I was disgusted, Not a lady in the dining-room, 
nor the parlor, nor the waiting-room, and nothing 
of a town that I could see from the depot. Ko 
acquaintances, nothing to do, and twelve hours to 
wait for a train — j^leasant prospect indeed! " What 
can't be cured must i)e endured " came to my rescue ; 
and after breakfast I went to my room to think how 
best I might spend the day to the common interest 
of my reader and myself. I would walk over the 
town, I concluded, which must lie south of the 
depot; then over to the round-house and machine 
shops that I knew were there some place. This in 
the forenoon ; m the afternoon I would write what 
I had seen, and then stroll to the river. 



186 NOT AT HOME. 

I put on my hat and started out to execute my 
plans. Crossing the web of tracks I was surprised 
to find myself in front of a long row of substantial- 
looking business blocks, whose stores left no branch 
of business unrepresented. I turned to the right 
and found that blocks similar to these extended to 
the south to meet the residences of the town, built 
on up over a commanding hill. I walked on, but 
soon stopped, more surprised than ever, at the corner 
of a large city park shaded by tall trees and threaded 
by gravel walks. Glancing across the street I saw on 
a large building the words "The La Junta Tribune^ 

Walking on to the top of the hill, I halted before 
a two-story stone school-house, which I afterwards 
learned cost $10,001 > and is capable of accommodat- 
ing 250 children. It is a fine structure, and its loca- 
tion very desirable. Eeturning, of course the temp- 
tation to enter the Trihune office was too strong to be 
resisted. I found a large, well-equipped, nicely kept 
office, a well-patronized eight-column weekly paper, 
ably edited by Messrs. Johnson and English. Upon 
learning that I was a stray member of the great 
RepuhliGan family, trying to annihilate twelve hours 
of time, Mr. Johnson, in spite of all remonstrance, 
insisted on laying aside everything to show me 
over the town. 

We first " dropped in on " the real estate firm of 
Kilgore & Seeley, where we were shown many fine 
specimens of the county's products — wheat, oats, 
sorghum, corn, and peanuts. Having gained several 
items of desired information, I Avas next taken across 
the street, among the neat tenant cottages of the 
A. T. and S. F. employees, and, further on, to their 



LETTERU FROM COLORADO. 187 

library, reading-room and billiard hall. The grounds 
are carpeted with green, shaded by trees, and 
watered by fountains. The librar}^, though small, 
contains many valualile books, besides all the best 
magazines and dailies. 

Our last walk was to the round-house and repair 
shops, where I was introduced to Mr. Snyder, the 
foreman. He walked Avith us from end to end of 
the repair shops, where wheels buzz and belts revolve 
night and day, and where ninety men are employed ; 
then through the round-house, capable of accommo- 
dating twenty-four engines. He sliowed us a freight 
engine, the largest I ever saw, the giant of the road, 
No. (i7. " She," as they seem to call their engines, 
Avas in for repairs, and we were granted a ]3eep into 
the mystery of her complicated anatomy. No. 1 90, 
a dmiinutive, nervous creature, in an adjacent stall, 
he told us, had measured 6,200 miles in the past 
thirty days. Being questioned as to the average 
" life " of an engine, he replied that if one held out 
on these roads for twenty-four months, "she"' was 
doing well. After that, like the Irishman's jack- 
knife, the different parts Avere so rapidly replaced 
Avith ncAv, that it could hardly be called the same 
engine. I further learned that this is the end of the 
Santa Fe system, its two great branches going from 
here to Pueblo and the Company's coal mines near 
Canon City, and from here south into Xew Mexico, 
Arizona, California, and old Mexico ; that these are 
the railroad's largest works outside Topeka, having 
already cost $200,000, and are still incomplete ; that 
the implements, oil, and store-houses which supply 
and keep in repair the running stock and equipment 



188 NOT AT HOME. 

of the three divisions, are here ; that one of the com- 
pany's six hospitals is located here ; and that every 
month $55,000 are paid here to the employees of the 
road. " Some engineers receive $230 per month," 
Mr. Snyder said ; then added with a smile, " but such 
get very little sleep." Thanking the foreman for 
his kindness, we passed out among the scores of work- 
men busy with the machinery, and into the sunshine 
of the street again. In the office once more, I met 
E. S. Bradbury, of another live real estate firm, and 
J. J. Fitzgerald, of Las Vegas, and examined some 
specimens of ore from the surrounding hills. By 
that time the buggy and horses were ready, and we 
drove over the residence portion of town, viewed 
Holme's addition, a fine elevation of 1 20 acres over- 
looking the old town, the river, and surrounding 
country, and then drove to the A. T. and S. F. Hos- 
pital. Dr. Miel was absent, but we were shown over 
the building by his assistant, whom Ave found 
exceedingly polite and gracious. He showed us in 
succession the office, parlor, dining-rooms, kitchen, 
reading-rooms, bath-rooms, the nurses' suites of 
rooms, private chambers, and the spacious ward room 
containing sixteen or twenty beds, and up-stairs into 
his own nicely furnished suite. 

The wood work of the building's interior is of light 
grained material, except the office, which is of dark 
walnut. The office is furnished with carpet, easy 
chairs, library, supply of drugs, stuffed birds and 
animals, and some fine specimens. The halls and 
stairways are carpeted. The ward room, with its 
high ceiling, white beds, and lace curtains, is a model 
of coolness and neatness. There were but four 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 189 

patients confined to tlieir beds ; one engineer with a 
fractured skull, in a private apartment. Several 
invalids were seated in rockers, reading, playing 
checkers, or otherwise whiling the hours of con- 
valescence. A tramp had just died from a shock 
received while attempting to steal a ride. 

From the hospital we drove down through the 
business portion of town, past one block which cost 
$17,00u, and out across the long bridge of the 
Arkansas, among the irrigating ditches and ranches 
of the country. 

Of the information gleaned here and there I give 
you the following, chiefly because of my own sur- 
prise at finding so enterprising a little city at this 
point. Bent county (named of course for our hon- 
orable editor) is the largest in Colorado, contains 
9,250 square miles, and is called the "Empire of 
Bent. " But the county is soon to be sub-divided into 
three counties, with Lamar, La Animas, and La Junta 
as county seats, that portion of which La Junta will 
be capital being the richest and most highly 
improved. La Junta (" The Junction ") is pleasantly 
situated on the south bank of the Arkansas, 4,061 
feet above sea level. It claims 1 ,000 people, and is 
rapidly growing. It has three railroads to be built 
within the coming year ; two first-class hotels — the 
Depot and the National — and two or three smaller ; 
a G. A. K. post, K. P., I. O. O. F., Brotherhood of 
Engineers, and many other secret societies ; extensive 
brick-yards, a bank, mineral springs, besides the city 
park, round-house, hospital, reading-room, school- 
house, fire companies, newspapers, etc., alread}^ men- 
tioned. 



190 NOT A'l' HOME. 

T found its people not only refined and agreeable, 
but active and wide-awake to the interests of their 
prospering town, Avliich is, I believe, destined to be 
the great railroad and commercial centre of eastern 
Colorado. 

The facts are not due to my o^vn exertion, but to 
the courtesy of Messrs. Johnson and English, Kil- 
gore, Seeley, Bradbury, et al. 



A "Family." — Fort Union, 

Watrous, New Mex. 

Once more I " seat myself" and " take my pen in 
hand" to let 3^ou know that the gods are still 
gracious, that Felicitas still attends me — an undeserv- 
ing mortal. 

By your grace I will but briefly touch upon the 
tedious journey from La Junta here: Of how we 
started at 6 p. m., amid wind and rain, with an unre- 
liable engine in front and a disabled sleeper in the 
rear ; of the changes on the slowly passing land- 
scape, and the fading of the last familiar object — 
Pike's Peak ; of how, having forfeited the right of 
way by being twelve hours behind tune, we were 
ordered upon endless waits at ever}^ station ; of the 
complaining of the weary passengers ; of how the 
brakeman relieved our coach of a drunlvcn man by 
leading him gently (J) along the aisle by the collar, 
and how said drunkard clung fiercely to each pass- 
ing chair with "curses not loud, but deep "; of the 
feeling of loneliness, as, unable by the dim light to 
read or write, I sat gazing with sleepless eyes out 
upon the blank, black darkness, where 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 191 

"The swift little troops of silent sjjiirks, 

Now pausing, now scatl'ring away in fear, 
Went tl) reading the soot forest's tangled darks 
Like herds of startled deer ;" 

of the breaking of the tardy morning over a strange, 
wild landscape, houseless and. broken, where, in the 
language of the Irishman, the " hand of man has 
not left a footprint"; of the prolonged labor of two 
engines to draw our seven coaches up a steep grade ; 
and of reaching my destination at 8 o'clock, accom- 
plishing in fourteen hours a journey which should 
require but eight. 

It was the sweetest music I had heard for some 
time when the brakeman called out "Watrous !" and 
sweeter still, when, a few moments later, upon the 
platform, I heard my name spoken in greeting by 
familiar voices. 

I have been here since Thursday, and, thanks to 
the easy hospitality of Dr. and Mrs. S., am becom- 
ing quite at home in this novel retreat. I have 
taken several excursions, tours of inquiry, from Wat- 
rous to different points of the compass, and have 
gathered about me, by observation and questionings, 
much of as yet un worked material, I3ut first permit 
me to introduce to you our "family," of just tAvelve, 
whom Chance, in one of her odd whims, has assem- 
bled for a brief period, and who feel ourselves drawn 
together by a singular attraction — ac meal-times at 
least — when 

"A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind. ' 

There are the doctor, whose lieart is running over 
with good humor and liospitality, an enthusiastic 



193 NOT AT HOME. 

champion of "Watrous, Mora County, the West in 
general, and New Mexico in particular, and who loves 
to talk of early times and pioneer hardships ; his wife, 
a gentle-faced, mild-voiced woman, kind and over- 
anxious as to the comfort of her guests ; the eldest 
son — who is absent much of the time — just now 
directing the busy harvesters, and whose soul is in 
his cattle-ranch twenty miles away ; Florence, the 
eldest daughter, something of an invalid at present, 
but who sacrifices her comfort each day that I may 
miss none of the sights ; Carrie, the second, a busy, 
untiring body, whose sharp tongue is the dread of 
the "family"; Adelaide and Mabel, the younger ones, 
one moment clothed in the sedate modesty of woman- • 
hood, and the next full of the fun and clamorings of 
childhood, 

"Standing with reluctant feet 
Where tlie brook and river meet, 
Womanhood and cliildliood fleet." 

Then there are Mr, and Mrs. W. A. White, of Eaton, 
New Mexico, bride and groom, on a month's saunter 
among the mountains, with camera and sketching- 
material; he is a droll, keen-witted fellow, quaint 
and angular in form and speech, but with a true 
artist's a])preciation for the beautiful in nature and 
in art ; she is d^petitG little lady, graceful and winning 
—an artist also. Mr. Walter McNutt, station agent 
at this place, has traveled much, and remembers 
what he has seen. His description of a portion of the 
City of Mexico is one of the finest bits I've heard 
lately. lie is well informed and is a good conversa- 
tionist. Mr. W. J. Matherly, day operator, also 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 193 

belongs to the " family." He is from " Injiany, 
Posey County, Hoop Pole Township," and, being 
accustomed to society, llnds Watrous lonely. He is 
witty, fine-looking, and an excellent musician. 
Twelfthly and lastly, comes an individual, meddle- 
some and inquisitive, whose eyes and ears are ever 
on the alert in the interests of the RepyhliGmi. 

When the family circle is completed, at dinner in 
the long dining-room, or in the parlor or porches 
at evening, when rise the laugh and idle chat of 
leisure," hght words, the tinsel clink of compliments," 
it would be difficult to think that many of us never 
met until late this vacation season. Our amuse- 
ments are various. We drive, walk, hunt specimens 
and points for good views, write, do fancy work, 
and visit. Sunday we drove to Fort Union, ten miles 
distant, and came home via Tipton vi He. We have 
made the discovery of several good musicians among 
us, and with organ, harp, and (borrowed) violin, we 
make the neighbors deplore the length of the eve- 
ning and the thinness of their window shutters and 
doors. 

Dr. S. often finds entertainment in the attempts we 
make to pronounce some of the huge S])anish names 
which ornament the maps of Xew Mexico. What 
with the Le Koux, Ojo Calienta, Peloid llo, Arroyo 
de la Cuchilla, Juaoa Lopez, and the others, one has 
his hands — or rather his moutli — full. 

We had our pictures taken the other da}^ out under 
the white light of the ISTew Mexican sun, — horses and 
buggy, bronchos, dogs, and all — with the strange- 
looking adobe houses and the broken mountain in 
the background. We even descend to punning. 



194 NOT AT HOME. 

Some one remarked one evening that the violin was 
flat, but that no one was sharp enough to notice it. 
Again, when we heard our next-door neighbor 
playing his accordeon, as he does ever}^ evening, some 
one asked if that were the ''balance all" he Avas 
playing, and some one else sighed and said she hoped 
it was all the balance ! 

I'm going now for a scramble up the mountain 
which rises just back of the station house. When I 
return I'll tell you something about Fort Union and 
the Arsenal. 

Fort Union, you know, is an old fort, the barracks 
and fortifications having been built during the war. 
1 was anxious to see it, especially after the doctor 
had told me several items of interest concerning it. 
Sumner, then colonel, was first to command the 
fort, but was soon transferred to the Army of the 
Potomac, and was superseded by Gen. Loring,of 
Egyptian fame. It was there Gen. Gordon Granger 
died; it was there Gen. Phil. Sheridan's wife was 
born ; it was there that Kit Carson learned to write 
his name. The very road to it is historic, being 
almost the exact trail made by Harney during the 
war with Mexico. At present there are 000 men 
stationed there — two companies of cavalry and four 
of infantry — under command of Col. Douglass. It 
lies ten miles north and west of "Watrous, and the 
drive is a pleasant one. 

Sunday, when we were there, all was quiet. The 
officers sat in the shady porches of their comfortable 
quarters reading the dailies and looking very peace- 
able. The soldiers' quarters lack the flowers, bird- 



LETTEMS FROM COLOHADO. 195 

cages, hammocks, rockers, and other home-like signs 
of the officers', but all are of adobe and bear some- 
what ancient and dilapidated exteriors. AVe drove 
past the parade ground, tlie target field, the hospital, 
and the prison house, where the guard was pacing his 
slow beat. There is a small civilian settlement out- 
side, where the stores and shops and post-office are 
located. There is a daily mail between the fort and 
Watrous. Three-quarters of a mile south of where 
the infantry is stationed lies the Arsenal, where 
abide the two companies of cavalry. On the road 
thither we saw the cemetery, mournfully extensive ; 
the old breast-works of the original fort, now mere 
ruins ; and in the valley the well-kept, thrifty gar- 
dens of the officers, with the white tents of the 
gardeners. The quarters at the Arsenal are of adobe, 
as are also the barns for the horses. At a little 
distance may be seen the old magazine. This morning 
the colonel received orders to move his men north 
into Colorado to assist the militia against the Utes, 
and I presume the scene in and about the fort 
to-night is one of busy preparation. But yesterday, 
as we remounted the liomeAvard hill and looked back, 
the scene suggested anything but life. The low, 
brown quarters seemed fairly re-baking under the 
afternoon sun ; an occasional carriage wended its 
way through the quiet streets ; the horses grazed 
peaceful ; the grave-stones gleamed white from the 
mountain slope ; the smoke from the chimneys drifted 
dully off to the dim, ])urple mountains ; anon a blue 
coat and glitcering bayonet enlivened the brownness 
of the scene ; and high above the whole, upon a 
slender, towering stafl", to which 1 could not look 



196 NOT AT HOME. 

without a thrill — far up against the azure of the 
western sky, floating and rippling and billowing in 
the faint south breeze, rode the most beautiful 
emblem that ever the sun shone upon — the Stars and 
Stripes ! 

About Wateous. 

It will be no small task, I am persuaded, to do 
Watrous justice in a single letter, to say nothing of 
Mora county. All New Mexico — in fact, the whole 
territory over which I have rambled this summer — ■ 
has been written threadbare, so that I cannot hope 
to present anything new, but to give only personal 
impressions — '•''non 7iova, sed nove^^^ you know— and 
that. is probably the best any writer can do. 

Mora county lies in the northeastern part of the 
Territory, extending from the Texas Panhandle on 
the east to the mountains on the west, var^'ing in 
altitude from 4,000 to 7,000 feet above sea level. 
Although one of the smallest of the thirteen counties, 
it contains 2,370,000 acres. It is essentially a grazing 
county, with its chief wealth on foot — four feet — ^the 
year round ; not a mineral county, because it is on 
the Scolly land grant, and the mines are thus far 
undeveloped; though beyond a doubt it is rich in 
coal, iron, copper, silver, and gold. 

Not an agricultural county only because the natu- 
ral water-courses have not been utilized nor arti- 
ficial courses constructed to the extent they should 
be. Wells sunk in the numerous natural depressions 
of tlie county, and these supplied with mills, would 
largely increase the water iacdities. In the moun- 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 197 

tains, too, I am told, are locations suitable for reser- 
voirs whence might come inexhaustible supplies of 
water. Notwithstanding these easily surmounted 
difficulties, there are many practical, experienced 
men, who, like Dr. S., have great faith in the agri- 
cultural possibilities of the county, and who show 
their faith in works. Wheat, barley, and oats do 
well, though the corn is short and " flinty." Vege- 
tables of all sorts attain prodigious sizes, cabbages 
weighing thirty pounds, and onions, clear skinned 
and mild, two or three pounds each. 

It is found necessary to protect orchards here 
against the prevailing southwest winds by strips 
of rapid-growing trees — white willow, usually. 
Peaches, apricots, grapes, the small fruits — partic- 
ularly currants and gooseberries — are the most satis- 
factory to the horticulturist. Any piece of prairie 
land may be quickly converted into meadow^ by 
ii'rigation. Antelope, turkej^s, deer, and quail are 
still found, and, among the mountains, various wild 
animals. Traces of the ancient "settlers" still 
remain, and are interesting in relics of pottery, 
arrows, hand mills, etc. In the canons are also 
portions of the habitations of the Cliff Dwellers. 

But, as I said before, the cattle, sheep, and horses 
constitute Mora County's chief wealth, amounting to 
something like 75,000 head of cattle, 125,000 sheep, 
1,500 horses, and 10,000 goats. Herding is the 
business of the countv. The ''cow-boys" are a 
regular army, thoroughly organized, with officers, 
certain duties, and systematic work. But we are 
going to one of the semi-annual "round-ups" at the • 
lakes this afternoon, the whole party of us ; and in 



198 KOT AT HOME. 

another letter I'll "tell you all about it," I must 
not neglect to mention the trees— cotton wood, hack, 
box-elder, wild cherry, and plum, oak, cedar, and 
pine — which add so much to the county. The climate 
is delightful — "high altitude, equable temperature, 
dry atmosphere, and generous sunshine," as the real 
estate enthusiasts say. It has been cooler here than 
I found it in Colorado. I have had little use for the 
light dresses I brought. Last night we had a 
copious shower, and this morning closed doors and 
bright fires are in order. 

The scenery too is fine. I climbed the mountain 
mentioned in my last, and scrambled about for two 
hours, gathering some of the exquisite wild flowers 
and seeking for the best projections that commanded 
the valle}^ views. We named the mountain Pisgah, 
for the land it commands is indeed one of promise : 
An emerald valley, threaded by the silver Mora and 
Sapillo Rivers, and by the winding wagon roads that 
look like broad brown ribbons among the green, 
forest-groves bedotting the whole, half concealing 
the large white ranch houses ; to the left the placid 
surface of Phoenix Lake ; the well-wooded foot-hills, 
the rough and broken canons, the stretch of rolling 
meadows,the irregular tree hedges ; and to the west, 
fifty miles distant, the undulating wall of the Rockies ; 
to the north, Turkey Mountains. Below the pro- 
jecting ledge on which we stood, the shining rails of 
the Santa Fe go twisting their tortuous way through 
canon and gorge to the north, followed by the 
delicate tracings of the five-ply telegraph web. 
Just to the left, 500 feet beneath us, lay Watrous, 
under the hollow of the mountain's rugged hand. 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 199 

Harvesters Avere bus}" on every side, in boundless 
fields where gleamed the blue ' eyes of the alfalfa, 
their wagons, machines, and horses looking like so 
man}" toys; and the town seemed a very hive, with 
its dark brown cells and tiny human bees. As we 
stood there, a fountain of white steam in the distance 
preceded the long re-echoing whistle of a freight 
train, and \\q had scarcely time to gain the verge of 
the ledge when the train came rushing and curving 
around the mountain, was lost to sight beneath our 
very feet and emei'ged again almost instantlv, while 
we looked down upon the back of the monster, which 
was half concealed by the trail of murky smoke that 
went hovering and drifting away across the fair 
valley. 

But I digress. A word about Watrous, and I have 
done. 

The original site, just north of the present one, was 
granted in 1S22 to six men, who built upon it a fort 
for defense against the Indians, and called it Fort 
Barkely, for one of their number. Watrous proper, 
formerly cal'ed La Junta, was platted nine years 
ago by the Santa Fe Company, the railroad reach- 
ing here the latter part of June, 1878, and to Las 
Yegas, twenty miles south, on the 4th of Jul}^ It is 
in the southern part of Mora County ; altitude, 6,500 
feet. The city was named for one of the " oldest inhab- 
itants" — S. B. Watrous, of Massachusetts, who settled 
here in ! 832. That he has seen much of the world's 
spice you will not doubt when I tell you that he has 
had six wives — one Pueblo Indian, three Mexicans, 
and two Americans. You will wonder that he 
committed suicide no earlier than last summer. 



300 NOT AT HOME. 

The ''city" contains about 200 inliabitants, two 
hotels, a school-house, church, with the usual quota 
of groceries and saloons, the houses all (save two 
or three, including church and dei)ot) built of the 
sun-dried brick so much used throughout this countr3\ 
Its location, with a mountain to the east and the 
twin rivers to north and west, is one of singular 
beauty. The little group of low brown dwellings, as 
viewed '' from Mount Pisgah's lofty height," fits well 
into the niche of the valley, and is in quaint keeping 
with its ancient, suggestive surroundings and the 
dreamy transparency of the New .Mexican atmo- 
sphere. 

A Kew-Mexican Sunset.— Las Vegas. — A Country 
Town -Dance." 

A series of rainy days had confined us to the 
house and driven ustoall sorts of indoor amusements. 
Small chat, patterns in lace and fancy work were 
exhausted, the organ, unlike the wind, soon grew 
weary, and a peej) through the rain-washed windows 
durino- the last hours of the storm would have 
revealed most of the feminine portion of the house- 
hold seated on the floor with the little folks, uiaking 
doll clothes. The doctor Avent about his duties in 
rain-proof coat or gazed pensively out toward the 
wet alfalfa field across the turbid river. The station 
agent and the ojierator trudged to and from meals 
with rubber boots and disconsolate faces. The 
artist wandered about the house froui Avindow to 
window until, disheartened at the prospect, he came 
with a doleful sigh and })lumped himself down on 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 201 

the floor in our midst and asked for paper and 
scissors, that he might cut a doll dress pattern. 

But toward evening of the third day " the baffled 
sun stabbed wildly at the gale" and came off 
victorious. At the first burst of sunshine all things 
else were forgotten, and the whole family assembled 
on the porch at once. The doctor joined us. " Who 
wants to go with me to yonder point to see the sun 
set?" he asked, indicating the highest ledge of 
Mount Pisgah, southeast of town. I had ti-ied to 
gain the point that afternoon, but had been driven 
back by the rain, so that now I was the flrst volunteer 
to follow in the doctor's watery footsteps. Mabel, 
Adda, the artist and his wife, completed the party. 

No matter how we had to go half a mile out of 
our way to cross the arroyo that barred our progress, 
nor how we trailed through long, wet grass and up 
over slippery rocks ; we reached the cli ff, and that 
was enough. We had just time for a sweeping 
glance around. The two rivers were ver}^ high, and 
we could hear the rush of their discolored waves. 
Every ditch and gutter was a running stream Far 
across the rain-wet meadow land, Fort Union lifted 
its flag against the dark mountain. 'Great white 
clouds hung suspended below the dark crests. South- 
ward our view stretched away for eleven miles. 

" At our feet the city slumbered. From its chimneys, here and 
there, 
Wreaths of snow-white smoke, ascending, vanished ghost-like 
through the air." 

We had just time for a glance, when we witnessed 
one of New Mexico's famed sunsets, the dropping of 
;t glowing ball behind clouds and mountain — 



203 NOT AT HOME. 

" When the sun, through heaven descending 
Like a red and burning cinder 
From the hearth of the great Spirit, 
Fell behind the western mountain." 

The air was very fresh and exhihirating, the view 
extensive and fascinating, the sunset a marvel of 
beauty, and, loath to go, we lingered till 

" Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven 
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of angels." 

Then, damp and shivering, but well paid for our 
climb, we left the artistic and poetic, and dropped 
500 feet into the prose of the quiet town, reaching 
home in time for a late supper in the lighted dining- 
room. After tea we all drew around the cheery 
fire to listen to pages, now humorous now pathetic, 
from " Faggots from the Camp Fire,'' a tale of the 
late war ; and to hear the doctor — an old soldier, 
his memory thawed by warmth and light and genial 
company — relate experiences of southern camp life. 

Before parting for the night it Avas agreed among 
the artist, his wife, Florence, and myself that, 
Aveather permitting, Ave Avould spend the morning in 
Las Vegas. 

Owing to the lateness of the freight upon Avhich 
Ave Avere permitted to ride, we did sot reach our 
destination until nearly noon the next day. Hence 
my visit to Las Yegas, contrary to my expectation, 
Avas unsatisfactory, so far as learning ami:hing of 
the city Avas concerned. 

I had letters of introduction to F. A. Blake, of the 
JVews, Dr. Gould, of the Daily Oj>tic, and a card 
to Colonel Haren, none of Avhich I found time to use ; 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 20;$ 

for, taking a carriage, Ave drove at once to tlie ll(-t 
Springs, some six miles distant. The new Las Vegas, 
which lies near the railroad, I could see from the 
carriage, bore the impress of modern metropolitanism 
— street car line, telephone, water works, gas, mills, 
factories, churches, a college, a convent, opera house, 
academy, etc. We drove down past the city parks. 
Plaza Hotel, and tasteful suburban residences and 
out upon the broad boulevard, past old Las Vegas, 
fraught Avith historic interests, built of adobe around 
a plaza or public square. Lots on either side almost 
the entire length of the boulevard are staked off, and, 
I was told, have been sold to the amount of $70,000 
Avorth. 

After a late dinner at the Phoenix, the finest and 
b«st conducted hotel I ever saAv, not excepting a house 
in Manitou or Den\^er, our artist set to Avork to take 
some views of the springs. He first took the inte- 
rior of the dining-room, with its innumerable fruit 
decked tables, mantel, stained glass, and chandeliers, 
to the infinite delight of sixteen colored Avaiters, Avho 
AA^ere photogra]:>hed, each Avith his Avhite coat and 
apron, napkin and broad grm. He then scrambled 
up the opposite side of the canon, camera in hand, 
and took a " corner vicAv " of the hotel. 

By the time Ave descended to the park and had 
strolled about enjoA^ing the coolness, the floAvers, and 
the deer, they had hoisted the flag on the dome of 
the Phoenix, set the fountains going in the park, and 
had all things in readiness for the other vicAvs. The 
central fountain, with its leaping spray spanned by 
a bright rainboAV, Avas taken, then the summer-house, 
Avith its rustic sides and idle loungers. After Ave 



■20-i ^'02' AT HOME. 

luul purchased some trifles at the museum, aiul l\a'^ 
ther enjoyed the park, Ave re-entered the carriage, 
and from the first hill on our backward Ava}^ took 
our last picture, a bird's-eye view of hotel, park, 
clustering houses, and sentinel mountains. I much 
regret that I saw no more of this beautiful city of 
Galenas. I had hoped to spend perhaps a week 
there ; but time flies, and I have abeady tarried 
beyond season. 

It was a merry party that took possession of the 
north-bound freight's caboose. The train men kindl}^ 
gave us the chairs up in the observatory, cupola, or 
whatever it may be, and the ride to AVatrous was 
most enjoyable, for we commanded a full view of 
the fl\^ing scenery ; and if you wish I'll show you, 
when I reach home, a picture which our zealous, 
untiring artist took from the top of the caboose. It 
is of a small lake, a glimpse of towering rock, and 
the long freight train swinging around a curve, with 
a brakeman in the act of twisting the brakes. 

We had to wait some time at Onava for the pas- 
senger, but we held interview with a mammoth 
watermelon, and were perfectly resigned to the 
situation. 

Presently we were in motion again, with the 
lights of the Watrous station house gazing upon us 
down the track with welcoming eyes. To finish the 
day, three or four of us strayed over about 10 o'clock 
to where a '' dance '' was in progress. Tlie doctor 
was desirous that I should witness some of the Span- 
ish dances and learn something of the manner in 
which the whole was conducted. 

I learned sometliino-. We were shown into a small 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 205 

room in which '' the girls " were crowded, " the 
boys" lingering outside on the porch or in the "ball- 
room." The Ijall-room was large enough for one 
set. The lioor was rough and unwaxed, and there 
was a cellar door, conspicuous for its iron ring handle, 
made bright by many a " fantastic toe." Presently 
the two Mexicans in the corner tuned (?) their violin 
and guitar; "the boys" were numbered and danced 
by turns, each venturing as far as the door of the 
small room and indicating, by word or sign, the girl 
of his choice ; the first set was formed, 

" And when music rose, with its voluptuous swell, 
Soft eyes looked love to eyes that spoke again, 
And all went merry as a marriage bell." 

Some of the figures were novel ; one they called 
" the coona " "was especially so. Some of the boys 
wore handkerchiefs in lieu of collars, and danced 
without their coats ; but most of them looked neat. 

The girls looked fresh and prett}^, some in white, 
and all wore natural flowers. All wore dresses with 
close neck and sleeves. There was much round danc- 
ing, and several waltzers would have done credit to 
a larger ball-room. Wearying of the monotonous 
rise and fall of the music, and the unceasing whirl of 
the dancers, we soon 

" hied us to our caljin, well prepared J 

To dream all night of what the day denied." 



A New-Mexican "Rouxd Up." 
Reader, did you ever witness a Western " round 



206 M)T Al' uOMK. 

Friday morning there was a little iiutterof excite- 
ment throughout the household prior to the start. 
Florence and Adda agreed to remain at home to 
oversee things for the day. Doctor and our railroad 
friends had imperative duties to attend to. So there 
were but seven of us — the artist, his wife, and 
Mabel, in a light wagon with camera and sketching 
materials ; Mrs. S. and Carrie in the buggy, mine 
hosts' eldest son and I on ponies. 

A swift ride of some six miles over a broken and 
picturesque country brought us in view of the white 
tents and wagons of the encampment. We left the 
road and took an air line toward it, the buggy going 
directly to the camp, while we pulled up our ponies 
beside the herd of horses. Five or six men, some on 
foot, some on jaded-looking ponies, were busy lasso- 
ing fresh horses. The riders on the outside kept 
circling around the herd, crowding the horses close 
together, while the others, with those on foot, forced 
their way among them, singling out fresh ponies for 
the afternoon's work. Each man — some sixteen or 
eighteen of them — has along with him, I was told, 
from seven to ten horses, of which he uses two a day, 
thus keeping a reserve of ready ones. Those caught 
were led to the camp, and fastened until after dinner. 

"Camp" consisted of several tents pitched near 
a little stream, the provision wagon partly unloaded 
and an out-door fire of pine logs burning brightly. 
Near by was a wood-pile and ax, two sets of harness 
heaped together, blankets spread out to dry, and 
saddles and trappings scattered about. When we 
alighted, we were met by the captain, Avith lifted 
hat; our horses were taken in charge; we were 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. '.^07 

introduced to such of "the boys " as were not too 
bashful to come forward for the purpose, and were 
seated on a log preparatory for dinner. 

The cook, a domestic looking fellow, Avith sleeves 
rolled above his elbows and a cloth of uncertain 
color over one arm, then served us. Each was given 
a tin plate, a knife and fork, a tin cup and spoon. 
These we held in our laps, while the bo3'^s sat around 
on the grass in various attitudes, resting their cups 
on the ground. When I asked for a napkin, one of 
them gallantly offered his handkerchief, while another 
ran and brought a flour sack ; and when I hinted at 
the cook's want of an apron, all laughed immoder- 
ately, and said that was too expensive a luxury for 
" Clay." Our plates were taken from us and returned 
heaped with juicy beefsteak, potatoes, rice, and pick- 
les, our cu]3s running over with rich, strong coffee. 
Apples, prunes, and sauce in great buckets were set 
at our feet ; the half tubs of sugar and pickles were 
rolled forward ; hot light biscuits were brought from 
the oven, and we were told to "help ourselves." 

After dinner, which, thanks to our long ride and to 
the politeness and attention of our hosts, we enjoyed 
very much, I was referred to one of the men for 
such information as I desired. He first took me to 
the fire and showed me the great smoked coffee 
boiler — "a small one," he said, touching it with his 
spurred foot; also the two iron ovens with movable 
covers, around and over which live coals are lieap' d 
when baking is to be done. Then to the wagon. 
The back part is fitted with a large cupboard, witli 
five shelves, three drawers, and a leaf which drops and 
is held by a chain, in shape of a table, or fastens up 



^08 K()T AT HOME. 

by means of buttons, and serves as protection for the 
whole. On the shelves were spices, coffee-mill, 
canned goods, etc., etc., in the drawers the plates, 
knives, forks and the like. Under the wagon was a 
box for the ovens, kettles, and iron ware. 

At the side of the wagon, between wheels, was 
riveted a water tank, which is filled in case they go 
into "dry camp." Then, balancing myself on a 
wheel-spoke, I took a view of the interior of the 
wagon. Under the driver's seat was a large chest, 
built stationary. Lifting the lid, my companion 
revealed two compartments — one for flour, sifter 
and roller, the other for rice, the dried fruits, etc. 
The sj)ace between the chest and cupboard was filled 
with sacks of potatoes and onions, and tier upon tier 
of canned tomatoes, peaches, etc. On top of these, 
when camp is broke, the tents and blankets are piled 
and roped, and the whole is drawn by four mules 
driven by the cook. 

By the time I was through my inquiries and had 
thanked my informant, most of the men had saddled 
their horses and gone to the branding camp, about a 
mile distant. So we mounted and followed, striking 
out across the pathless hill at a swift gallop. All the 
while I was there I saw no one ride at a walk. It is 
no wonder they require two horses a d^ix. From 
the first hill we could see the " day herd" to the left, 
the flock of sheep to the right, and back of us the 
ponies, each tended by mounted men. From the next 
hill appeared the branding camp : a bright pine fire in 
which were thrust several long irons ; saddled ponies 
stood about with drooping heads and closed eyes ; 
some dozen men lounged around the fire, variouslv 



LETTEIIS FROM COLOBABO. 209 

occupied; and four or five others, on horseback, 
guarded a '' bunch " of perhaps eighty cows with 
their calves. Ragged cliffs and tall pines formed a 
background for the whole. 

A " round up " is a semi-annual or tri-annual gath- 
ering of all the cattle findable. It is conducted by a 
well-organized association of the cattle men of the 
different districts, and at every assembling will be 
found rei)resentatives of each of the stock-owners. 
It is the duty of these representatives to see that 
each calf is branded with the owner's brand and ear- 
marked with his mark, and to "cut out" and drive 
back each branded stray to his own range. All 
unbranded cattle over a year old are called ' ' ma v- 
ricks." They are brand d alike with some peculiar 
mark, and are either butchered or sold to defray the 
association's expenses. Sometimes they are given 
the brand of the man on whose range they are found. 
"Ear marked" cattle that have no brand are called 
"sleepers," and are disposed of in a similar manner. 
The association has an inspector in Kansas City who 
seizes all stolen cattle of the association's brands and 
sells them for his employers. A hide inspector also 
travels the road in the association's interests. Each 
stockholder has one vote and is assessed according 
to the number of cattle he owns. 

By the time we reached the camp the men had 
begun work. A half-dozen of them kept the cows 
in a close bunch, while a "roper" — in this case the 
captain — rode among them singling out with keen 
eye the unbranded calves and noting the brand of 
the mother. Then would come a swing of the right 
arm above his head, accompanied by a loud whir-r-r, 



SIO KOT A T HOME. 

the lasso would reach out with unerring precision, 
the looj) tighten upon neck, foot, or body of an 
unfortunate calf, whose loud cries and terrified 
struggles were a signal for the men at the fire to be 
in readiness. 

The roper, with just one glance to see that his 
victim is secure, urges his broncho toward the fire, 
wdiile the calf pulls and leaps and rolls and struggles, 
bawling all the while, and the mother, with flashing 
eyes and tossing horns, tears up the sod at a respect- 
ful distance or runs in a close circle about the fire. 
As the calf is dragged near, it is fastened upon by 
two men, who throw and hold it down, loosening the 
lasso that the "roper" may go back to his work. 
As the roper turns he draws in and winds up his rope, 
calling out the brand and mark to be given the calf 
— "H. I. K," "M. T. square," "rail 12, left side," 
"hour glass," " 12 by 12," " O. K. right side," etc., 
etc.; and the earmarks — " notch right," "slit left," 
" half-crop both," etc. This cry is repeated by the 
men who are holding the calf down, and again by 
the man who sits cross-legged with book and pencil, 
registering the animals as they are branded. 

Two other men then spring forward, one with a 
sharp knife to mark the ears, the other with the now 
red-hot iron to do the branding. The old stamping 
iron, I was told, has been all but abandoned, and in 
its place are used several irons shaped into a terminal 
bar or a simple curve. Thus the brander becomes 
virtually a printer, coolly standing above the pros- 
trate body till, with a few artistic (?) turns of the 
sizzling iron, he has stamped out the desired letters 
or mark, while the calf quivers and writhes and 



LETTKJiS FTtOM COLOnADO. 211 

moans in vain. Then tiie four men spring away, and 
the released animal, bewildered by tlie double source 
of pain, bounds back to the herd to wonder how it 
all happened. By this time the roper has a couple 
more ready, one being held by two other men, and 
the torturing process is repeated. If the animal be 
large and inclined to be vicious, the first roper holds 
him by the neck or horns while a second " heels " 
him — i. e., lassoes one or both of his feet. Then he 
is thrown, not very gently, and the horses are backed 
to the ends of the ropes in opposite directions, and 
thus he is held to his place. Sometimes, in addition 
to this, two men sit astride him, and the ropes are 
not loosened till the branding is done. Once in a 
while the animal is so powerful as to snap the strong 
ropes ; then, if he has been partly marked and grows 
mad with the pain, the men must scatter to avoid 
his wrath. 

We w^atched the novel process with interest, 
though I must say we wasted considerable sympathy. 
One of the men said that while they Avere branding 
the first fifty calves we said " Oh ! poor thing !" 
just one hundred and fifty times by actual count — 
three exclamations for each calf. But don't you 
believe him, for I know it wasn't more than once for 
each. lie even had the audacity to remark that he 
didn't believe it hurt 'em to have only (?) the hair 
burnt off; and as for the ear marking, he believed they 
positively enjoyed it ! 

The training of the horses has been perfect. 
While the rider is roping he pays little heed to the 
bridle, and the horse keeps at the proper distance 
and angle from the chased animal. When the loop 



212 NOT AT HOME. 

falls about the calf's neck he stops, frequently from 
a run, and leaning back braces himself until the calf, 
by his own struggles, has drawn up the loop. Then 
the horse will turn, without guidance other than the 
knee, and straining every nerve, draw the plunging 
creature forward. Often when an animal is held 
down by means of ropes the men will dismount to 
assist with the branding, and the ponies will remain 
statue-hke in their places puUing back on the ropes, 
which are fastened to the horns of the saddles. 

Toward the middle of the afternoon the cattle 
became so restless that the last few calves required 
a great deal of chasing, and redoubled vigilance was 
necessary on the ])art of those guarding the cows. 

After the unbranded had been marked the men 
began roping all of the "O.K." brand in order to 
"tally" them. The}^ had been purchased by the 
association, their owner guaranteeing a certain 
number of head. To " tally " means to catch each 
animal of the brand, place a long mark under the 
"O. K.," and record the number in the register; 
and as this had to do with cows as well as calves, 
much time and caution were requisite in subjecting 
them. "When an animal is transferred from seller 
to purchaser, the fact is made known by the seller's 
brand, inverted, being placed beneath the original 
brand, and the purchaser's being burned beside it. 

Once during the afternoon the captain sent one of 
the men back to camp for drinking water. Mounting 
the first horse he came to, he started off at the usual 
pace, a run, and presently reappeared at the same 
gait, holding a bucket of water at arm's length. 
And at another time a horseman came over the hill 



LETTERS FROM COLORADO. 213 

from Wagon Mound with mail for "the boys''! 
Business ^vas suspended then for a few moments, 
and the horseman was surrounded by the men, eager 
for letters and papers. 

Before they were quite through branding our 
artist adjusted his camera and took several instanta- 
neous negatives of the scene from different points of 
view. This done the bunch was scattered, and we 
witnessed some scientific "cutting out" — the sepa- 
rating of certain cattle from the others —part to be 
thrown with tlie day lierd, part to be left. Then 
saddles and trappmgs were gathered, the tire 
scattered, irons cooled and fastened to the end of a 
lariat, to be dragged back, and we turned our heads 
campward. There we found "Clay" and his assist- 
ants preparing supper — one grinding coifee, one 
chopjiing wood, wliile the otliers busied themselves 
about the horses and tents. We tarried only to hear 

Captain C appoint his guards for the night, and 

to thank him for his royal entertainment; and 
declining tiie pressing invitation to take tea — or 
rather coffee — with them, we started for home, con- 
cluding that there are " more things in this world 
than are dreamed of in our philosophy." 

" Adios !" 

Yes, I must go; the end is come at last 

Of all this idle, dreamy, sweet repose. 
How swift the days of spring-time glided past! 

How sure the summer l)urns toward its close! 

The last time T went out in searcli of flowers, I 
found but few. Glancing back down the slope I 



214 yOT AT HOME. 

was Struck by the general brownness of Nature's 
robes, by the hazy appearance of the far meadow 
hinds, and the smoky bhie of the cedar's shadows. 
Then I bethought me of the date, and how close 
September is treading on Summer's heels. 

Then I recollected that I had heard the doctor 
say that snoAV-falls \vould soon be frequent among 
the mountains, and that, a night or two before, Mrs. 
S. had supplied our bed with an extra coverlet. I 
remembered that our artist and his wife had already 
gone, and that Mr. Bland, principal of the AVatrous 
schools, had come down from Denver on Saturday, 
]ireparatory to reopening his second year's work. 
Then I thought, with a sudden twinge of conscience, 
that I too have a school, somewhere at large in 
Kansas ; that I too must not be unmindful of duty in 
the midst of pleasure. 

The Summer's dead ; the season is closed ; vaca- 
tion is over; the sun is ''shaping his eternal circle 
southward." The streams are afloat with brown 
stems. 



" There is no wind to stir the leaves — 
The harsh leaves overhead; 
Only the querulous cricket grieves, 
And shrilling locust weaves 
A song of summer dead." 

So I have climbed my last mountain, ridden ray 
last broncho, taken my last notes — am writing my 
last letter. 

"God has set 
Labor and rest, as night and day, to men 
Successive," 



LETTERS FROM OLORADO. 21.-) 

says wise old Milton, and he is right. 1 have spent 
the summer- -not squandered it — but have used it 
lavishly and pleasurably and — yes — selfishly. But 
now comes autumn and the faint wind, the rustle of 
the leaves. All Nature says " To the work!" and I 
nmst obey, for it is right. 

I had hoped to pierce further into the mountain 
land, toward the Golden Gate, 



Where the sun drops from the heavens. 
Floating on the waters westward, 
As a red leaf in the autumn 
Falls and floats upon the waters — 
Falls and sinks into its bosom." 



But never mind ; there are many more summers 
coming, and Hope is an agreeable companion. 



Besides, 



" We cannot make bargains for blisses. 
Nor catch them, like lishes, in nets; 
And ofttimes the things our life misses 
Help more than the things which it gets." 



There is another attraction, as powerful as duty's 
call — "the tie? that bind my heart to home." I 
believe, with others, that Kansas is made over load- 
stone, and that every true Kansan, liowever far from 
home, 'mid scenes however pleasant, has some iron 
globules in his blood which irresistibly attract him 
toward her. 

I shall not say farewell to the mountains, the twin 
rivers, the c]iffs, the cedars', for I shall carry their 



316 :\<IT AT HOME. 

refreshing outlines in my memory, until one day 1 
shall see them again. I shall not say farewell to the 
several members of " the family,' ' for farewell is a 
long w^ord and hard to utter ; and, too, we may per- 
chance meet again — who knows ? And so it is only 
fi'om my indulgent readers tliat I am in reality 
parting ; and to those I will now say, Spanish fashion, 
'AdoisP 



LETTERS FROM COLUliAlJU. 



" Oh, they wander wide who roam 
For the joys of life from Home!" 

Peace and plenty, and promise fair. 

Are more than fall to the Kausan's share. 

He knows it not. To his tirst love true. 

He may wander wide the whole world through; 

By lake, by river, o'er hill and plain. 

He goes away— but he comes again. 

—Ellen P. Allerton. 

He who has lived in Kansas, though he roam. 
Can find no other spot and call it home. 
As Ingalls says— A Kansas man may stray, 
May leave, perchance depart, or go away; 
In short, may roam; but be it anywhere. 
He must return if he can raise the fare. 

—Eugene F. Ware. 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 219 



IV.— LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 



"Away to the West, as the Sun Went Down." 

Los Angeles, Cal. 

Just a fleeting thought, just a moment's remem- 
brance of the last day at home — one of those gray, 
rainy Sundays, when July weeps at intervals over 
her shortening tyranny; just a picture of the place of 
all places, the loved old house em^Teathed in trees; 
of the little group in the porch, whose eyes, in looking 
after us, have somehow caught the films of the sum- 
mer mist; just a thought of all these, as we lean 
back with closed eyes and yield ourselves to the 
motion of the train ; and before we can withdraw 
our minds from it w^e have reached our first point of 
near destination. 

"Where are we going?" Wait. Our first stop 
for change of cars was at Peabody, where the Rock 
Island route and the great Santa Fe clasp hands 
briefly ere speeding on their different ways. Here 
we were entertained by our friend Miss Kate Kel- 
logg, who, with a company of others, saw us on 
the 5:10 p. m. train for Newton. "We"' means sis- 
ter and I, and the " p. m." was Tuesday, July 1 0. 

In Newton, with business all transacted, and we 
had three hours before train time. " Where are we 
going V Now' do be patient I I want to tell you. 



220 NOT AT HOME. 

what a delightful two hours I spent, and in what 
unexpected a manner. 

In reply to the inquiry of an acquaintance, I said: 
'■ I ;iin going to the Bepublican office." " Then you 
):ij.ot see Xoble Prentis," he said; and almost before 
I could realize it, I was acknowledging an introduc- 
tion to one of the most noted men in our State. He, 
in tui-n, said: "Who meets me must meet my wife;" 
and a short walk brought us to his beautiful home, 
where it Avas my pleasure to meet his wife and 
daughter, and to catch a glimpse of the inner life, 
the opinions, preferences, and tastes of this man of 
letters. It may be that the shortness of our time 
hastened to perfect our acquaintance ; or it may be 
the fact of my having scribbled a little that caused 
me so readily to understand. ISText to being a true 
poet is the ability to appreciate one. 

At any rate, we found a common subject in his 
well-filled library, and we discussed Kansas litera- 
ture till the whole State's ears must have burned. 
Ware's " Rhymes of Ironquill," Wilder's " Annals 
of Kansas," Mrs. Humphrey's " Squatter Sover- 
eignty," Mrs. AUerton's "Poems of the Prairie," 
Inman's "Santa Fe Trail"; Mrs. Hudson, Campbell, 
Hendee, and Miss Patton were in turn called up to 
pass muster. He showed me a copy of the " Univer- 
sity Poems," a very clever collection in very inelegant 
dress ; portraits of prominent Kansans ; old copies of 
Burns and Milton, purchased near their homes ; and 
finally, that treasure of every writer's heart, his scrap- 
book. In this I found poems by Sol Miller, several 
little gems by Mr. Prentis, and many favorable criti- 
cisms on his books. Mr. Prentis favored us by read- 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 321 

ing aloud a favorite poem of his — '' Praxiteles and 
Pliryne" — and under the spell of his deep, well-modu- 
lated voice, again the July mists gathered upon our 
lashes. On the way back to the Arcade he continued 
his very instructive talk on travels. He holds what 
has long been my opinion — /. e., that in this day of rail- 
roads and steamers there is no reason why the poorest 
of us may not see the length and breadth of our own 
country at least. He is a well traveled man, this 
veritable ' ' Kansan Abroad," and is author of a second 
book, — " Southwestern Letters." 

Supper, and then from the upper balcony of tlie 
Arcade we watched the local trains come in, take 
supper and speed away, the platform presenting a 
scene of busy activity. Presently the freights and 
local trains were either gone or stowed on side tracks, 
and the main line left clear. Then, herahled by a 
fountain of ^vhite steam and a clear whistle, a train 
came swinging in sight and measured itself along- 
side the platform. It bore a conspicuous banner in 
red, white, and blue : " Kansas Excursion to Xational 
Educational Association." In a moment we were 
down on the platform, and I was greeting members 
of the Emporia party — Professor and Mrs. J. N. Wil- 
kinson, Misses Spencer, Kuhlman, Jones, et al. 

And now you know wliere we are going: to 
attend the K. E. A. at San Erancisco — to California 
— to the realization of my early dreams ! 

Those of my readers who followed me through my 
last summer's wanderings will recall with what 
reluctance I turned homeward from Las Yegas, 
turned my back to the intervening mountains over 
which Cahfornia readied beckoning hands in vain. 



223 NOT AT HOME. 

Alul thev will recall hoAV I took cold comfort in the 
thought that 

" We cauuot make bargains for blisses, 
Nor catch Iheiii, like lishe.s, in nets; 

And ofttinies tlic things our life misses 
Help more than the things -whieh it gels." 

1 had planned my summer's trip to the North, had 
nearly perfected arrangements, and had given up 
seeing the Golden Gate for a year or more, when the 
A. T. and S. F. took things in its own iron hands ; 
impossibilities yielded, and I said, "I will go." Kor 
do I regret my decision ; for we have come via Las 
Vegas, Santa Fe, and this city; making stops of from 
six hours to a day in each, for recreation and sight 
seeing; and of all the pleasant trips I have ever 
taken — but I anticipate too much. 

As I was saying, I greeted my old school friends, 
found the space reserved for us in the Pullman, and 
Ave ])roceeded to make ourselves at home, in what 
must 1)0 our home indeed for nearly a week. Xow 
while they are taking supper let us take a running- 
look from pilot to Pullman. Here is a fresh engine, 
impatient to start. It is in good hands ; but we 
change engineers so often that there is little use to 
look at him longer than to see that he is prompt and 
reliable. Kext is the baggage car, packed and 
wedged with trunks of all sizes, ages, and previous 
condition of servitude. These are in the competent 
hands of A. G. Brown, who ultimately proves him- 
self ' ' i)ntience on a monument '" — if the monument be 
of Saratogas and valises — and eloquent enough to 
move the most refractory trunk-strap. 



LhyrTEUH FROM CAIAI-OUMA. 233 

After the baggage coach follow four tourists' 
sleepers. The third bears the placard and has been 
chartered bj the Emporia party. The fourth is 
occupied by Topeka people. Next comes our own 
" Zelanda," Palace Drawing-room Sleeper, but two 
weeks from shops, upholstered with peacock plush 
and elegant in every modern convenience. A second 
sleeper is behind us, and we gain a third at La Junta. 
The Pullman cars are in charge of C. P. Jessup, who 
spares neither time, pains, nor porters in ministering 
to our comfort. J. P. Shifflett, collector, is another 
to conspire with the other Santa Fe employees 
against our spending one dull moment en route. 
The Kansas party is in charge of J. N. Wilkinson 
principal of training State Normal; and to those 
who know him it is needless to repeat the adjectives 
" accommodating, cheerful, and untiring." 

And all these — the whole train— is under the 
vigilant, kindly eyes of the company's traveling pas- 
senger agent E. F. Purnett, without whom the 
excursion must have failed. He it is who answers all 
questions, who is quoted as positive authority, and 
who hears most frequently from all li})s "Thank 
you," "I am much obliged," etc. 

I was going to say that, taken all in all, the A. T. 
and S. F. could not have put the train into more 
efficient hands than those of the five men mentioned 
— but must refrain ; for supper is over, " all aboard" 
is sounded, and with a start we go gliding out jDast 
the line of friends with lifted hats and fluttering 
handkerchiefs, out into the beautiful corn-grown val- 
ley of the Arkansas, out toward the glowing evening 
skies, where 



224 NOT A r no MM. 

" the setting sun breaks out again 

And touches all the darksome plain with light; 
Smiles ou the fields until they laugh and sing, 
Then, like a ruby, from the horizon's ring 
Drops down into the night." 



A. T. AND S. F. Ball and Banquet at the 

i Ph(ENIX. 

" Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus ; 
Home-keeping youths have ever homely wits. 
I rather would entreat thy company 
To see the wonders of the world abroad." 

" July ! rouse up ! The temperate heats that filled 
the air are raging forward, to glow and over-fill the 
earth with hotness. Must it be tliusin everything — 
that June shall rush toward August C 

June is tlie fairest niontli in all our year, but July 
makes me long for the unfamiliar mountain lands. 
'' But you have been over the Santa Fe to Las Vegas, 
and told us all about it last summer," I hear you 
complain. Did you never read a book for the second, 
third, even fourth time, and leceive new impressions 
at each reading? It is true of "this book of God's, 
called earth." Each line of the five-hundred-mile 
])oem to Las Vegas is more indeUbly impressed upon 
my memory, and I find more beauty and rhj^tlim 
than at the first perusal. 

But it is not my intention to "enthuse" over scen- 
ery nor to grow jealous over crop prospects. W e will 
glide over these subjects as easily as our train glided 
over its two shining rails, that glisten in a continuous 
parallel from the great Lake, through great cities like 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 225 

Chicago and Kansas City, across such plains and 
between such "walls of corn" as only Kansas can 
furnish, over rivers like the Mississippi and Eio 
Grande, and up and over such heights as Glorieta, 
7,432 feet above sea level. So to punish your com- 
plaint, I shall say nothing of even so interesting a 
point as Raton tunnel, which pierces the spine of the 
continent on the line between Colorado and ISTew 
Mexico, and through which our engine occupied 
three dark minutes in groping its way. 

The purpose of this letter is to detail our stop at 
Las Vegas, and in a measure to describe the banquet 
and ball tendered the National Educational Associa- 
tion by the Santa Fe route. 

"We had breakfasted at La Junta, where we had 
been joined by a third palace car from Denver ; had 
dined at Raton, and now, about 6 p. m., we drew into 
New Las Yegas as dusty and weary as only our long 
ride could render us. But weariness was soon for- 
gotten. From the mysterious nooks and corners of 
corpulent valises there appeared to view packages as 
mysterious, accompanied by innumerable crimping- 
pins, hair-pins, toilet-puffs, flowers, and all the other 
special abhorrences of the Goddess of Common Sense. 
Then such a fluttering about the dressing-rooms! 
Such callings for the untiring porter ! Such crowd- 
ing about the few mirrors which had to do service 
for a score of fair faces ! 

If you could have stood, as did the porter, and seen 
these bundle-laden, sombre, dnst}" grub- worms go 
into the crowded dressing-rooms, and come out, some 
moments later, full-grown butterflies, vari-colored, 
dniuty, and perfumed — if you could have seen these, 
7 



236 NOT AT HOME. 

you too might have made an exclamation, though per- 
haps more elegant than escaped the lips of the por- 
ter : " Golly ! wonder my lookin' -glasses wasn't all 
smashed !" 

An hour's stroll through the beautiful grounds, by 
fountain, deer park, and garden, and then we gravi- 
tate toward the Phoenix Hotel, which stands half up 
a commanding hill overlooking the valley of Gallinas. 

Come walk with us up the smooth ascent, to where 
the gaily dressed throng are promenading the inter- 
minable porch. Let us ignore the people for the 
present, and measure the length and width of the 
spacious office, parlors, writing-rooms, halls, reading- 
rooms, noting the soft carpets, glittering chandeliers, 
pure mirrors, and every elegant detail below. Then 
let us take the elevator up, and up, past brilliant, 
crowded rooms, to the rotunda, white wiih electric 
light ; and down the broad spiral stair-cases to the 
office once more. Oh, yes ; it is just as one might 
expect — this handsomest of hotels is another of the 
Santa Fe's offsprings. 

Now, while we are waiting the opening of the din- 
ing-room, I will take pleasure in pointing out to you 
such members of our excursion party as we may find 
in a circuit of porches and parlors. 

Ah, here is a whole group of them ! Central stands 
Professor Wilkinson, beaming upon his "children," 
and looking even more cheerful than ever. Beside 
him, is his wife, a gracious little lady, with a kind word 
for every one. P)y the hand, she holds five-year-old 
Edith, pet of the excursion, who has, ever since the 
start, been all but submerged in the floods of atten- 
tions, caresses, sweetmeats, et al. The lady in black 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 227 

satin, whose commanding appearance at once attracts, 
is Miss Martha Spencer, instructor of elocution. State 
Normal. She is talking with a pretty German lady 
in steel gray. That is ]\liss Emile Kuhlman, princi- 
pal of Kindergarten. She has traveled all over 
Europe, and is now in a fair way to see some of 
America's linest scenery. The gentleman with gray 
whiskers and so earnest a manner in conversation is 
Dr. Cruickshank, late of Presbyterian College. The 
lady in the becoming head-dress of natural floAvers 
is Miss Alice Overstreet, of Lewis Academy, Wichita. 
The stout old gentleman with the two young girls is 
W. II. Minick, delegate to the convention at St. 
Louis, from the Fourteenth Congressional District, 
Pennsjivania. The two fair girls in the light shades 
of cashmere are his daughters, Mary and Emnui. 
The 3'oung gentleman who has transformed himself 
almost beyond recognition by banishing tourist's 
blouse, belt, and cap, is Professor J. J. Wi kinson, of 
Lovington, Illinois. On his arm is Miss Bloss, of 
Topeka. The dark-eyed ladies with the soft South- 
ern accent are Iris Kent and Edna Bass, of Texas, 
Over by the office desk is a gentleman with quiet, 
business-like air. That is E. F. Burnett, the com- 
pany's taveling agent. As usual, he is surrounded 
by groups of inquirers. The lady in the blue satine 
is Sarah Sprague, Ph. D., member of the State 
Board of Examiners, Minneapolis, Minnesota. She is 
author of a series of popular Readers. Near her, in 
earnest converse with a Colorado gentleman, is Pro- 
fessor Chide-ter, Superintendent of Wichita Schools. 
Miss Myrtle Jones, of Emporia, appears in steel gray. 
Across the room from lier is a gentleman in glasses; 



228 NOT AT HOME. 

that is Professor Larimer, of Topeka. He is talk- 
ing with a lady in black lace. That's "me." Sis- 
ter is with a party in the Rotunda. 

But hark! the orchestra has begun a stirring 
march, and see ! the great double doors to the most 
beautiful dining-room in the United States are 
thrown open. A quiet word here and there from 
Mr. Burnett, and the company falls easily into twos 
and threes. Professor Wilkinson with his wife leads 
the way, and right proud we are of our Kansas 
leader. Soon we are seated about the tables- -tables 
pei'fect in snowy damask, silver, sparkling glass-ware, 
cut-flowers, and the dainty souvenirs, gifts from 
the Santa Fe route. The hundreds of people being 
seated, the murmur of voices, the quiet tread of 
scores of waiters, and the soft clatter of china, tell of 
the progress of a most elegant meal. Over the 
splendid side-boards, the long centre-piece laden with 
quaint designs ; over festooned windows, where birds 
add charms to flowers; over the dainty costumes 
and happy faces of the banqueters flash and whiten 
the myriads of electric lights. The air is laden with 
perfume for the nostrils and soft music for the ears. 

Midway in the repast Professor Owen, of Raton, 
rose, and in the name of New Mexico most cordially 
welcomed us. Professor Wilkinson responded in a 
feAv words. Dr. Wagoner, of Colorado, reiterated 
the response, and was well received. The lady in 
black lace next recited a poem — "Kansas: 1874- 
1884" — followed by Miss Spencer, who rendered 
"The Danish Boy's Whistle," a happy selection in 
that it unfolded engineers' manner of love-making. 
In response to an enthusiastic encore, Miss Spencer 



LETTEIiH FROM CALIFORNIA. 229 

gave " The Boot-blacks," much to the delight of the 
waiters. Call was made for Professor Larimer, of 
Topeka, who made one of the happiest hits of the 
evening. At conclusion of the banquet, Professor 
"Wilkinson, after a few remarks complimentary to 
the A. T. and S. F. P. P. for the royal treatment we 
had received, put before the house a vote of thanks 
to the road, and the heartiness of the " ayes " Avas 
signilicant. 

As we passed from the dining-room, some. one pro- 
posed three cheers for the Santa F^ route, and they 
were given with a zest. A brief time for promenad- 
ing, and, as if by magic, the great dining-room was 
transformed into a ball-room, the orchestra dispens- 
ing sweet music and our staid excursionists chasing 
the glowing hours with flying feet. 

At midnight the word was passed that our train 
was ready to pull out ; and with reluctant adieux to 
the beautiful Phoenix and its proprietor, and with a 
grateful thought to the source of all this pleasure, we 
re-trod the winding paths; and soon, in seclusion of 
our berths, we were dreaming of triumphs past and 
pleasures to come, while our faithful engme drew us 
away to the southward under the clear New Mex- 
ican skies. 

City of Holy Faith. — En eoute Again. 

To BE "drowned 
In an ocean of dreams, without a sound, 
Whose waves ever mark, though tliey never impress 
The light sands Avhich pave it — consciousness "; 

to forget both weariness and self amid the darkness 
of descended night and the roar of the rushing train, 



280 NOT AT IJOME. 

and then to wake and draw aside the curtains, and 
to receive the morning blessing of warm sunshine 
direct from heaven, with no lingering sign of the 
darkness nor the weariness — all these were mine to 
experience after the banquet night at Las Yegas. 

Glorieta and the wild Apache cafion have been 
passed by night, and our train, stopping for no pas- 
sengers, and running on its own time, has reached 
and left Lamy, and, taking its course almost north- 
ward, has pushed into the very heart of the rocky 
land. We step from our coaches to gaze up the 
strange heights piled like purple clouds against the 
brittle, sparkling sapphire sky, and trailing off to 
the southward in a ro3^al glory of color, their pink 
and white cliffs and peaks distinguishable in the 
morning sun by their crests of everlasting snow. 

Where are we? What is this anciently modern 
city lying at the mountains' feet? this city with 
its white sand streets, along which range now the 
low adobe houses — which, as Noble Prentis says, 
may be a week old or a thousand years — and now 
the modern American dwelling; and where the priest 
and the merchant, the burro trains and the phaeton, 
meander side by side, and where the century-old ox- 
cart, the thousand-dollar hacks, fashionably dressed 
ladies, Mexican peddlers, United States soldiers, dogs, 
loungers and burros, are mingled in picturesque con- 
fusion? It is Santa Fe, the ancient; Santa Fe, the 
new and lasting; the civil, military, ecclesiastical, 
and historic centre of 122,460 square miles of terri- 
tory. Santa Fe, and ten hours before us ! The train 
is soon abandoned to bi-ush, broom, and porter, and 
the hundred and fifty excursionists scatter out 



LETTER.'^ FROM CALIFORNIA. 231 

tliroiigli the city to seek relaxation, pleasure, and 
information. 

Misses Spencer, Price, Overstreet, sister antl I lin- 
gered along the crooked streets, entertained in full l^y 
the quaintness of the surroundings. "We paused in 
an old grave 3^ard unintelligible with Spanish inscrij)- 
tions and vocal with fragrant flowers; crossed the 
plaza, with its fountain, cool sliadows, and staring 
idlers, and over to one of the man}^ handsome cathe- 
drals. 

We took a brief rest in the cool gloom of this last ; 
noted the fineness of the altar cloth, the Scrijiture 
paintings from the trial and crucifixion ; the niches, 
the burning candles, the holy water, the one kneeling 
devotee; and then passed out and on, till summoned 
to halt by the daring little Rio Santa Fe, that dashes 
its merry way through the heart of the city in open 
defiance of law and order. Here, much to my humil- 
iation, I was commanded to hold a sunshade in either 
hand, while my companions descended from their 
dignity to the secluded bank of this Rio, and there, in 
open and defiance to the lavr and order aforemen- 
tioned, performed one of the ordinances of an ortho- 
dox church, in a very unorthodox manner. I proin. 
ised not to tell at the train just what they did, and I 
kept m}^ word ; but if you could have seen that row 
of dainty (?) hand-turned, hand-sewed, opera-toed, 
flexible-soled Ludlows, you would have smiled to 
scorn the Frenchman's idea that ladles, like angels, 
have no feet. But I promised not to tell, and I won't. 

San Miguel's Church, said to have been built in 
KUO, was our next point of interest. It is of adol)e, 
([uaint and ancient. Having been destroyed in the 



233 NOT A T JliJME. 

revolt of the Pueblo Indians, it was rebuilt hj 
" Admiral Don Jose Chacon Medina Salazar Villase- 
nor, knight of the order of Santiago, Governor and 
C^a])tain General of this kingdom of New Mexico " — 
which engraven name, with slight help from a couple 
of beams, supports the inner gallery. ( Vide Prentis.) 

From this church we found our way to a formid- 
able adobe wall surrounding the academy of sisters 
of charity. Three quick pulls of the gate rope 
were answered by three echoing chimes of bells, 
and later by a black-robed, meek-faced sister, who 
showed us to the i'ece]:)ti()n-room and left us, with a 
murmur of Spanish. Soon came a cheery-faced 
English-speaking sister, Avho regretted that vacation 
prevented our visiting the inner workings of the 
school. However, with the keys at her side she 
threw open door after door, and we })eeped into 
school-rooms, cool dark halls and parlors, and lastlj?" 
into the chape I . Our guide made the sign of the cross, 
motioned us in, and dropped on her knees in the 
aisle. We passed in. It was the hour of devotion, 
and the spaces were filled with bowed iigures in black. 
As we moved along in silence, looking Avith curious 
eyes from right to left, from altar and incense to 
stained glass and fresco, not a head moved, not an 
eye was raised. The hush was profound. 

" How is it that no one looked up when we were 
lingering and whispering all about them? They are 
only women," remarked Mrs. Price, after we had 
reached the sunshine of the yard. " They are trained 
from early childhood," replied our guide; but her 
smile told more than, her Avords. 

As we crossed a l)rido:e of the Rio we saw some of 



LETTEllS FROM CALIFORmA. 233 

the Mexican women washing at the stream side with 
their half-bmned, shallow tubs, little tires, woven 
baskets, and root soap. After dinner sister and I 
found a "curio shop," and brought away Mexican 
beads, a quaint pitcher, bits of native bread, and an 
idol — the God of Love — a horrible creature with one 
hand pressed to its classic (?) brow, on which rests a 
most anguished look, just as one might expect. 

At 3 p. M. a long whistle from the engine called 
the wanderers " home " — our temporary, wheeled 
home — and with a long look at the sun-bathed city, 
with its beautiful ca})itol building, its military fort 
with tlie floating ensign against a wall of mountains, 
we were drawn down the seventeen-mile branch to 
Lamy and out upon the main line once more, over 
Rio Galisteo, past wonderful old Felipe, and side b}^ 
side for long interesting miles Avith the majestic Rio 
Grande. 

"•Albuquerque! Twenty minutes for supper." But 
the supper proved to be a lunch and the twenty min- 
utes a full hour, ample time for promenading to safe 
distance in all directions from " home," though not 
far enough to gain any knowledge of this interesting- 
city but half in view. 

By 8 o'clock we started, still tending southward. 
At the Atlantic and Pacific junction is where through 
trains leave the main line, which goes south to El 
Paso, and turn westward over the rails of the Atlan- 
tic and Pacific road, a part of the Santa Fe system. 

"Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, 
Along the mountain's brow the setting sun. 
Not as in northern climes, obscurely bright, 
But one unclouded blaze of living light." 



234 NOT AT HOME. 

And nig-ht comes down once more. 

"' We shall pass the continental divide some time 
to-night," the conductor said, before we settled our- 
selves for the night ; " and yon will find it very cool." 
I have a dim recollection of waking some time in the 
darkness to hear the labored panting of two engines 
pushing and pulling us up grade, to look for a bewil- 
dered moment through the window at the outer air, 
fairly aglow with sw^arms of sparks, and to creep 
down "with a shiver under the blankets again. I 
learned afterward that w^e were passing the divide, 
which is at Coolidge, New Mexico, and w^hich has an 
altitude of 7,257 feet. 



■ And when the second morning shone, 
We looked upon a world unknown; 
On nothing we could call our own." 



Isolation, barrenness, wide wastes of sand, high 
volcano-piled rocks, bare and wild lava fields, tor- 
tured, knotted, unhappy -looking trees, Avretched habi- 
tations, brow^n, herbless mountains afar — and sand 
everywhere ! Such was my first glimpse of Arizona, 
land fraught with such interest to the geologist, 
bearing as it does upon its open pages records of pri- 
meval ages so plain that he who runs (even forty miles 
an hour) may read. 

One of the curious rock formations that met my 
sight is called the Kavajo Church. It rises tall and 
clear cut against the horizon, its Nature-sculptured 
spires pointing heavenward from its rocky wall and 
foundation of solid granite, chiseled by supernatural 
power. At its shrine worship the nomadic Indians 



LETTERti FROM VALIEORNIA. 235 

of the desert waste. Who shall say they ^vorship 
Nature in vain ? 

" All this country needs is water," a gentleman said 
to me. " See how grass and trees and cattle thrive 
along those puny streams. Agriculture will i)ush its 
wa}" back from these streams, and rain must follow." 
And I thought of Dennis's poem on what the plough 
had done for Kansas: 

" 'Tis the plough, Jose, the plough, man's earliest, best friend. 
The homely, humble plough, patient, faithful to the end. 
Every good thing in life follows in the train 
Of the rain; but the plough with its furrow guides the rain." 

Some time during the forenoon the trains drew 
on the bridge across Caiion Diablo, and hung there 
for some minutes for the sake of the passengers' 
curiosity. Stepping en masse upon the bridge, we 
looked down into a gash-like chasm of 540 feet wide 
and 250 feet deep. Its edges are level with the sur- 
rounding country, and at a little distance cannot be 
distinguished. (Star-gazing strollers westward bound, 
})lease take notice.) Geologists say that it is the 
result of the earth's cooling— a gigantic crack, and 
that if it closed the projections and opposite notches 
would dovetail into each other. 

Aboard and in motion once more, the face of nature 
was seen to be changing, and in a most unexpected 
manner. Without the least hint gigantic pine forests 
sprang up on every side, and the ground was clothed 
with grass. The San Francisco Mountains, frowning- 
and white capped, had long been in sight. Much 
interest in the lumber question was excited by our 
arrival at Flagstaff, the wide-awake lumbering centre 



336 yOT AT HOME. 

of the region. Our dinner station was "Williams ; and 
from thence to Peach Springs, where we took supper. 
We passed amid some of the most beautiful scenery I 
have ever looked upon. We climbed for a short time 
before beginning the long descent toward the Colo- 
rado River — and that climb ! Quick ! before we begin, 
let us go up into the observatory of the caboose which 
we have picked up somewhere and tacked on to our 
rear, and we can look in all directions. The brake- 
men assist me to the lofty chair, which pivots easily. 
Looking back over the way we have come, it is 
difficult to believe that human skill could surmount 
such hindrances. The A. and P. has certainly 
chosen the easiest way, from an engineer's standpoint. 
To me it seems that it has chosen the only possible 
way. Yet here is another road almost beside us, you 
say. No, tliat above and almost parallel with ours is 
the A. and P. track over which we are yet to pass. 
See, the road makes a detour here of nearly two 
miles, and swings back almost to this point in order 
to make the desired grade. Here we go around it 
now, but the rails are alone ; the telegraph poles, with 
(one might almost fancy) a look of disgust at our 
folly, pause for a moment, and when we are out of 
sight go crouching along across lots to the nearest 
point of the road, and wait in ambush to spring out 
and surprise us when we come gliding back from our 
circuit, giving themselves time to catch their breath 
jind congratulate one another on their neat strata- 
gem. Look ahead now ; at every turn you can see 
the engine and the train's length, first on one side and 
then on the other, as it climbs steadily on and on, the 
eugine striding upward with whirling, flying wheels, 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA 237 

the cars swaying and sweeping along behind. A 
glance ba-ckward as we reach the top, reveals our 
traversed road, coiled and twisted and tied in knots 
like a Titan's whip-cord, or as if it had been run red 
hot down the rugged mountain sides, and had cooletl 
and stiffened in countless crinkles. 

Then the descent — the holding back of the engine, 
the clinching and hissing of brakes — and oh! the 
grandeur of the ever-opening, ever-changing view ! 
Alone in my lofty seat, apart from the others through 
a precious sunny hour, I find my first opportunity for 
solitary reflection. Leave me alone now — even you ! 
I would rather pass through such scenery in the 
silence, which is so grandly vocal if we listen well. 
Aristotle has said that whosoever delights in solitude 
is either a wild beast or a god. I don't claim to be 
either, but I do think there is education in frequent 
seclusions from human society, and that " Solitude is 
the nurse of full-grown souls"; for 

" The iufinite ahvays is silent; 

It is only the finite speaks, 
Our words are the idle wave caps 

On the deep that never breaks. 
We may question with wand of science, 

Explain, decide, and discuss ; 
But only in meditation 

The mystery speaks to us." 



An Impkovised Concp:rt. — Sunday Service in a 
Palace Car. 

Possibly it will seem strange to those of \\\y readers 
accustomed to the restraining conventionalities of 



338 iYOr A'r 110 MK. 

societ}^, when I tell them, as I jrarpose doing, of the 
perfect freedom, the easy familiarity that so soon 
possessed our party. And yet, glancing back over 
the way, and considering the length of tiiWQ en route, 
the many pleasant stops, together with the profes- 
sional tie that bound us, and the generous '•'• fellow 
feeling " of the pleasure-seekers, it is no marvel that 
from the first we were "wondrous kind." So you 
shall hear how the 160 of us individually trod every 
square foot from the engine to the rear observation 
car ; how self-introduced became the law, and how 
even the most icy melted, simply because they must 
to be in the free, informal, unconventional fashion. 

But, you sa}^, surely there were long hours when 
all grew weary and ceased to be interesting, when 
nothing sufficed to amuse ! You are wrong. That 
might have been the feeling of a few; but you could 
pass the train's length at no time by day and not 
observe the thorough enjoyment which seemed a part 
of the atmosphere. We might have brought that air 
from Kansas — who knows ? 

What did we do for amusement? Well, if you 
had been privileged to take the walk I mentioned, 
you might have seen, first, a quartette playing whist, 
with an interested group of lookers-on. Next, 
in significant contrast, would be three or four gra}^- 
beards discussing some great educational question. 
Passing to the next coach, here you would find a table 
spread with an out-of-hour luncheon of fruit and 
sweetmeats; there a group noisily talking politics 
next to a couple silent over the chess-board. Crossing 
to the next car you would likely be detained by a 
crowd upon the platforms, who, in the enthusiasin of 



LETTEIIS FLKjM VALIFOUNIA. 239 

viewing the most Ijeautiful scenery in America, had 
forgotten to cl.ngto brakes and iron railings, forgot- 
ten appearances in travehng caps and colored glasses, 
but who would never forget to tender 3'ou an invita- 
tion to tarry with them, field-glass thrown in. 

If you ever got away you might find in the next 
" house " a berth whereon lounged one who alternately 
dozed and scanned the morning paper. Again, you 
would find some untraveled one studying the guide 
book instead of enjoying the flying panorama outside ; 
and yet again, a swarm in the aisle excited over 
conundrums and puzzles that would bound from one 
to another like a lightly-tossed ball. You might 
have to buy your way through this mob with one or 
two ill-aimed arrows at answers. 

Further on, you might find some one reading aloud 
(extremely loud) to a limited audience, l^assing 
through the drawing-room you might intrude upon a 
whispering couple in the corner. If you did of course 
you would murmur -'Pardon me," and blunder on 
from such a "two's-company-three's-a-crowd" atmos- 
phere. (X. B. — This atmosphere strictly non-Kan- 
san.) Lastly, you would find me just where I bade 
you leave me — in the observatory of the caboose, 
alone, though "never less alone than when alone." 

But after we left Peach Springs it soon grew too 
dark for the gleaning of thought from outside ; for 
in those mountain lands 

" Tlie sun's rim dips; the stars rush out; 
At one stride comes the dark." 

So we must seek other amusement. AVhat should 
it be ? Dr. W. M. Wright, one of the most prominent 



240 NOT AT HOME. 

of the Denver delegation, hit upon a most happy 
idea, and gave voice to it in — " Why not have a 
concert, interspersing music with recitations ?"' No 
sooner said than done. Having been unanimously 
chosen leader, the doctor passed through the coaches 
with pencil and paper, and soon had material for a 
programme most promising. It was at first sug- 
gested that no one unwilling to contribute to the 
evening's entertainment should be invited; but so 
many desirable persons were over-modest that 
numerous exceptions were made to the rule. Colo- 
rado's Pullman was selected as the concert hall, and 
8 o'clock the hour for beginning. By the appointed 
time seats and aisles were thronged, and those who 
came fashionably late suffered, as all such should. 

Now that all were assembled, introduced, and made 
to feel at home, how best should we render that 
feeling more genuine? "Music" is the only answer 
to such a question. Yes, music — a song ; but what 
song? The windows were closed, the guitar tuned, 
the audience waiting. Some one made a timely 
suggestion, and we at once " raised loud on high our 
mingled voices." Better acquainted afterwards? 
Who wouldn't be, through giving life to such words 
as — 

" All the world is sad and dreary, 
Everywhere I roam; 
Oh, darkies, how my heart grows weary, 
Far from the old folks at home "V 

Miss Bell, of Denver, then recited a selection from 
"Phcebe Gary," followed by more of the familiar 
songs, in which the whole audience joined. Miss 
Spencer rendered "The Maiden's Prayer" in so 



LETTERS FROM ALIFORM A. 241 

pleasing a manner that she was obh'ged to respond 
with '' The Old Barn Window/' 

After a guitar solo, the porters of the three palace 
cars were called for, and the audience was treated to 
genuin.e ])lantation and camp-meeting melodies. 
Before we broke up for the social part of the enter- 
tainment all united in singing " Nearer, My God, to 
Thee," and ''Home, Sweet Home''; and in the clatter 
and din of our train's headlong sjjeed I fancy they 
liad a different sound, a more solemn meaning than 
they had when we last sang them in om' several 
homes or churches. 

Passing back to our own Zelanda, a knot of us 
tarried outside to enjoy the beauties of mountain 
scenery by night ; to see a slender thread of a moon 
tremble above the black wall : 

" A yellow moon in splendor drooping, 
A tired queen, with her state oppressed; 

Low 'neatli boulder and pine tree stoopmg, 
Lies she soft on her throne at rest," 

and the heavens were left desert. A quartette of us 
saluted her departure by giving "• Larboard Watch " 
to the midnight air, and whiled time further in the 
vain hope of seeing " The Xeedles/' 

But we were otherwise rewarded for our lono- 

o 

wait by feeling our train slacken its rapid speed, 
creep upon a long bridge, and pause; a broad, 
turbid stream below, in which the great southern 
stars looked like long drops of gold. AVe were 
crossing the Colorado Ktver; and the more enthusi- 
astic of us held our breath, fairl}^ till we were dra^vn 
upon the other bank. Then, ere disbanding for the 



i}42 KOT AT HOME. 

night, we grasped hands with the repeated assurance 
— "We are in California!" 

In the morning we woke from dreams of orange 
groves and drooping roses to find ourselves behind a 
disabled engine in one of those deserts of w^hich 
every transcontinental line has one or more — a real 
Sahara, 170 miles in extent, from the Colorado River 
toBarstow, where we expected to breakfast. It was 
the first I ever beheld, and the impression still 
lingers — a wide, lonely waste of fine white sand 
with archipelagoes of sage brush, and such omnipres- 
ence of cactus that any one might anywhere say, 
and at any time, " I was alone with my thoughts 
and a cactus." There was a remarked scarcity of 
animal life. Some one found a horned toad and 
immediately preserved it in alcohol — though where 
such an article as the last-named could come from, 
I must leave you to infer. 

The long w^ait did in no wise daunt our party. 
Shadowed by parasols, the untiring specimen hunters 
w^ent abroad seeking whom they might devour. 
Professor J. J. Wilkinson entertained us by running 
down a tiny green lizard — the first lizard I ever 
saw green enough to match speed with an Illinois 
Professor! Some one of Epicurus's advocates 
grumbled at so much desert before breakfast ; but 
soon an angel of relief in shape of a hand-car came 
from Xewberry, and by 10:30 we reached Barstow, 
from whence the train, with new engine, turned 
southward through Cajon Pass, into San Gabriel 
Valley. The contrast with the desert was very great 
as we entered into all the verdure and well watered 
freshness of this famous Eden, where the equally 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 24:5 

famous climate of Southern California ma}' be said 
to be literally fenced in by spurs and extensions of 
the Sierra Madre. In this valley stands the old 
San Gabriel Mission Clrurch. At San Bernardino 
we lost Judge J. C. Burnett and wife, who, hoAV- 
ever, rejoined us at Los Angeles Sunday morning. 

It was at San Bernardino, our dinner station, that 
a most pleasant surprise awaited us. We were met 
by a large representation of teachers, who wore sun- 
flower badges and who gave us a most hearty greet- 
ing. During dinner, ladies passed from table to 
table, distributing from great baskets on their arms 
the most exquisite of California's floral offerings — 
pansies, dahlias, " roses faint with sweetness, lilies fair 
of face," dipping into the fragrant hearts of whicli 
one could echo Beecher's hyperbole — '' Flowers are 
the sweetest things God ever made and forgot to put 
souls into." 

These generous San Bernardino people did not 
stop with flowers. Each one of the 160 excursion- 
ists was given more fruit — peaches, plums, apricots, 
grapes, and oranges — than he could conveniently 
carry. 

After some time spent in talking and singing and 
a general hand-shaking with everybody we knew or 
did not know, we thronged our car platforms and 
steps, with fluttering handkerchiefs, and were drawn 
away, followed by three ringing cheers for the N. 
E. A. Excursion. At Glendora our train was 
boarded by the advance guard of Los Angeles's army 
of teachers — Professors Losonand Friesner and Mrs. 
Bradfield — who gave us a hint of the Avelcome Ave 
might expect from " The Angels." 



014 30 r AT HOME. ' 

The run from Glendora to Pasadena (aptly trans- 
lated Gate of Eden) is through some of the finest 
scenery in the Avorld; and we were refreshed by 
standing outside and drinking in our inspiring 
surroundings. My own words fail, but Dyer has 
said it for me : 

" Ever charming, ever new, 
When will the landscape tire the view? 
The fountain's fall, the river's flow, 
The woody valleys warm and low, 
The windy summits wild and high 
Roughly rushing on the sky, 
The pleasant seat, the ruined tower, 
The naked rock, the orange bower. 
The town and village, home and farm — 
Each gives to each a double charm, 
As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm;" 

and that is not so much of poetry as of actual 
truth. 

Almost before we knew it we were within the 
city limits of Los Angeles. Here we received from 
a second delegation our badges, which read, on corn- 
colored satin, "Kansas, N. T. A., July, '88." Half 
an hour later we were enjoying in the depot hotel a 
fine supper, " with compliments of the teachers of 
Los Angeles," with the usual speeches of welcome 
and response. 

That evening and the next day were devoted to 
seeing all possible of the beautiful city. Our party 
were "all dispersed and wandered far away" — 
some to the heights to bird's-ej^e the city and valley, 
some to bathe and take fish dinners at Santa Mon- 
tica or Long: Beach, some to visit orano^e groves or 



LETTERS FIWM CALIFORNIA. 245 

ostrich farms, some to stroll and make purchases, 
some to investigate the mysteries of Chinatown, and 
each to follow his own sw^eet w^ill. 

Satm'day there was an enthusiastic demonstracion 
on the part of the innumerable Democratic clubs, 
and the whole city emptied its people into the streets. 
Parade miles long, with mounted police, dignitaries 
in carriages, bands, Hambeau clubs, lireworks, 
banners ; and this huge " comet Avith tail of small 
boys," as some one said, swept on amid the enthusi- 
astic applaudings of by-standers. 

Sunday we Avere collectivel}^ and personally in- 
vited to the various churches ; but in and about the 
depot where our train was side-tracked you w^ould 
never have known it was Sunday. Work of all 
kinds went on, and as I sat watching the systematic 
cleaning, sweeping and washing of the Pullman cars, 
I could not help meditating upon Sabbath law and 
desecration. By 10 p. m. all were gathered into 
traindom again, and at 10:30 we turned our faces 
northward toward the hill of that educational Zion, 
whence the Illinois train had preceded us b}^ twenty- 
four hours. 

We did not forget the day! There was a certain 
subduedness in ever}^ voice, a certain element of rest 
pervading all things. In our particular corner, where 
a few of us were gathered together in His name, 
Mr. D. N". Parkinson, of Carbondale, Illinois, read, 
by earnest request, Psalms xxiii., xxiv., and li., and 
his deep, sincere voice found echo in every home- 
severed heart, with the sense of peace that only such 
words can bring: "Yea, though I w^alk through 
tlie vallev of the shadow of deatii, I will fear no 



24G NOT AT HOME. 

evil ; for Tliou art with me ; Thy rod and Thy staff 
they comfort me." 



The '^Golden Gate." — Opening of N. E. A. 

It requires a certain amount of philosophy to enter 
into any sort of pleasure, if for no other reason tlian 
that the pleasure must sooner or later end. Only 
a philosopher knows how to bear a parting. The 
thought that our pleasant excursion was nearly at an 
end, and that many of us would meet no more, hung 
like a mist all day between us and the enjoyment of 
the ])assing scenery. 

Threading the San Joaquin Valley, it was warm, 
and the depressing atmosphere about us was once 
disturbed by the appearance of Professors Larimer 
and Kelley wrapped in huge blankets and shivering 
as if from cold. Everybody laughed, but mournfully. 
Meantime the train sped northward. Dinner was 
taken at Lathrop, whence we turned due west, 
crossing the San Joaquin River, pushing on and on, 
which, in connection with the great distance we had 
already covered in the one direction, made plausible 
the old saying that the "Far West" is half a mile 
this side sunset. 

To one who has been taught to consider Kansas as 
" out west " it seemed as if we were penetrating to the 
uttermost limits of Christendom. And still Ave were 
l^ressing on — 

" To the doorway of the west wind, 
To the portals of the sunset, 
To tlic cartli's remotest border, 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 317 

Where into the empty spaces 
Sinks the sun, as a flamingo 
Drops into her nest at nightfall 
In the melancholy marshes." 

When we reached Point Costa a group of us took 
our old position, clinging to tlie railings and brakes 
of the " Zelanda. " Here we caught our first glimpse 
of San Francisco Bay ; and I shall not soon forget 
the breadth of rippling waters dyed by the round sun 
stooping to its grave, nor the torn mist, the spent 
wind's last effort ; nor the faint mountain line behind 
the almost hidden city. And we stood thus, mute 
with thoughts of the nearness of our journey's end, 
and the dissolving of the ties of voyage friendships ; 
stood — 

" Till tne shadows, pointing eastward. 
Lengthened over tield and forest; 
Till the sun drop'd from the heavens, 
Floating on the waters westward 
As a red leaf in the autumn, 
Falls and floats upon the water — 
Falls and sinks into its bosom." 

Oakland ! Over strong ]nles and bridges, among 
a web of tangled rails, along and over the water's 
edge, and into the covered depot. Oakland — the 
journey's end — a painfully pleasant thought ! Our 
weary engine checked its slackened speed with a 
deep breath. We waited until we were assigned our 
side track, and then we alighted to utter good-byes ; 
for though many were to spend the night in the 
sleepers, most of our party crossed the ferry into the 
city. Then after supper Mr. Burnett gathered the 
fragments of his "famih'" into "Zelanda," for a 



248 NOT AT HOME. 

last evening; and later, I drew to my table and 
wrote far into the night. 

Before I go any farther I must pay a final tribute 
to one to whom our whole party is more or less 
indebted — tribute which, however enthusiastic it 
might seem to my general reader, would find a cor- 
d ial response from every Kansas excursionist. There 
was one who had magic for tangled railroad tickets, 
wrong checks, or time-card perplexities ; who could 
answer one question as gently and pleasantly the 
fifty- first time as the first ; who had the quiet, happy 
facult}'- of telling you in the nick of time just what 
you meant to ask him if those other people ever gave 
you a chance ; who was welcomed by young and old 
from one end of the train to the other ; who could 
put more people under obhgations, who could be 
more zealous, untiring, and accommodating than any 
one you ever met. If none but excursionists were 
to read this, and if you were to ask who answers to 
the above description, all would say, with one 
accord — "The company's traveling agent, E. F. 
Burnett." 

So we spent our last night stowed away upon a 
siding, and on the morrow crossed the ferry and took 
a cable car for the Palace Hotel, a finely equipped 
seven-story structure, in whose reception-rooms the 
E'ational Educational Association had its head- 
quarters. Once wedged in the reception-room it was 
difficult to free oneself. The room was made attract- 
ive by every device of welcome in flowers and 
inscriptions that the warm heart of the Californian 
could suggest. The various committees were in 
places at respective desks, and it was our first duty 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 249 

to register and receive membership certificates for 
this great N. E. A. 

Then for a "home'' during om' stay: and a true 
home we found at the elegant residence of Mrs. E. S. 
Esterle, No. 615 Stockton Street, where private board 
was furnished us, with a suite of rooms, including 
bath-room, and every attention from hostess and 
seven servants. I trust my friends who contemplate 
visiting San Francisco will not fail to make note of 
the number if they want every convenience of home 
in the most aristocratic portion of the city. 

All the while we were getting settled others by 
the hundreds were doing likewise ; and when, in early 
evening, we presented our badges for admission into 
the Mechanics' Pavihon, we found exactly 6,998 
others doing the same. The city was full of teachers, 
and every hour's bulletin announced the arrival or 
expected arrival of loaded excursion trains. Thou- 
sands were wearing the beautiful national badge with 
its quaint design — a polar bear— and its expressive 
"Eureka"; the city Avas all a-flutter with reception 
banners, bunting, and N. E. A. pennants, and all was 
enthusiasm over the meeting of the grandest associa- 
tion in America. The Chronicle overflowed in 
poetry on the subject : 

' ' Water, water everywhere, 
A-nd not a drop to-drink; 
Teachers, teachers here and there. 
Too tliick to teach or think." 

On the first evening the reception was tendered 
the National Teachers by the State of California, and 
com]-»rehended an address of welcome by the Gov- 
ernor and others in behalf of State and city, and three 



2:o ::oT at home. 

respcmscs by representatives from Massachusetts, 
Colorado, and Kansas. When the Kansas man — 
J. II. Can field, of the State University, Lawrence — 
was introduced the cheers of anticipation were long 
and loud, so has our fame spread. During his speech 
the utmost tip-toe interest was manifest, and at its 
completion the applause was more hearty than the 
Pavilion had known. The music deserves special 
mention. Riztan's band, combined to the number of 
seventy -five pieces, rendered selections from Wngner, 
Handel, Mendelssohn, et al., Avliile the trained cliorus 
of 600 voices rose as one voice in such a swell of 
ecstasy that the true lover of music could only sit 
mute while the music of his being rose to j(jin the 
grand creKceiUlo. 

Chinatown Pkoper. 

It may be an unprofessional acknowledgment 
when I tell you that I was possessed of more of a 
desire to see San Francisco above and below ground 
than to be constant in attendance upon the sessions 
of the N. E. A. Nevertheless it is true; find I was 
regardless enough of my teachor-readors t;) follow 
my own inclination during my stay in the (iolden 
Gate city. 

It is not my intention to discuss that most ]KM'])lex- 
ing of all problems, the Chinese question. I niei-ely 
wish to say that I resolved to satisf}"" myself on the 
subject — 

" To clear this doubt, to know the world by sight, 
To find if books and swaius report aright "; 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 251 

and that I am somewhat wiser than I was before I 
descended into underground Chinatown. In every 
California city of any size, usually in the very heart 
of the city, is a dark spot called " Chinatown,"" a 
spot around which it were best to conduct the man 
looking for a location, rather than through it. 

Come with me, you of the East who have no 
charity for the Calif ornian's " unreasoning prejudice " 
against the Chinese. See, there is a large party 
this first evening ; more ladies than gentlemen, and 
accompanied by two policemen in all the authority 
of blue coats, brass buttons, and silver star. Well, 
you will see nothing to-night to shock your sense of 
propriety. This first place is a grocery store. Every- 
thing is quaintly grotesque. We seemed, with the 
crossing of California Street, to have been trans- 
ported across seas. True, here are our articles of 
commerce, aside from the herbs, nuts, and nameless 
things of Avhich we know nothing ; but they are all 
put up in such strange form, and are offered you by 
the same silent, shaven-headed, restless-eyed person- 
age, either of which would keep you in constant 
mind of the transition, even were it not for the 
peculiar odor which you have noted, to your dismay, 
since you entered Chinatown. 

Here is a drug-store with myriads of unheard-of, 
unsmelled-of concoctions on shelf and counter. In the 
middle of the floor, astride a bench sits the same 
silent, bright-eyed individual w^e everywhere see, 
shaving into thin layers some yellow root with what 
looks much like our plane. On the counter appear 
huge brass balances, a great mortar with hammer, 
for breaking herbs. There are no delicate, fractional- 



252 NOT AT HOME. 

grain doses in China. Medicine is taken ])y llie 
cupful. Besides there is the usual account book, 
with thin yellow, unruled leaves, lines of writing- 
moving up and down instead of across the page, and 
near it, the tar-like ink with little brush for writing. 
The institution that looks like a numeral table is one. 
We find them in every store. They use them in 
presence of their customer for making change, 
summing up bills, and in all calculations. At the 
end of this store is the never-failing lamp stove, 
with its large bowl of tea and the attendant 
cups and saucers. And the tea is freer than 
water. 

While we are here a customer comes, lays down 
money, mutters a few unintelligible words, and is 
given upon a piece of thick paper what looks like 
thin black paste. It is dipped from a deep bowl 
with a wooden paddle, and is carefully weighed. 

"Yes, opium," nods the Celestial behind the 
counter ; and then adds, noting our looks of disgust, 
" Me no use it." " But you sell it, and that's just as 
bad," we fling back at him as we leave, with true 
feminine fervor. 

Out again into the streets, so narrow that we fre- 
quently desert the crowded pavement for the middle, 
to avoid the limitless display of vegetables and fruits, 
and the throng of loose-robed, loose-shod street 
walkers ; and now the policemen brush them roughly 
away, sweeping them off the sidewalk like so many 
rats that we may see the interior of a tiny shop — a 
barber-shop. Here the silent individual whom Bret 
Hart aptly calls •' simple, childlike, and bland,'' is 
submittina: to a shave. The razor has extended his 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 353 

forehead to meet the Hne oi' bhick hair running 
from ear to ear over the crown of his head, and the 
nimble lingers of the barber are Aveaving in and out 
among the strands of his yard-long queue. By the 
way, did you know that not one of the queues dan 
gling about us (and the vjoods are full of them) is 
composed wholly of natural hair? Each is braided 
with coarse silk twist, which lengthens it to the 
knees. 

But some one is proposing lunch at the best 
Chinese restaurant. The police lead us to it. It is 
a brilliantly lighted three-story building, gay with 
lanterns and show-windows below, and balcony and 
foreign plants and decorations above. We enter. 
The first floor resembles somewhat the grocery store, 
save that here things are either cooked or prepared 
for cooking. Up the broad stairway draped with 
rich curtains, behind and among beautiful screens, 
through the folding doors of a wonderfully carved 
partition, and we find ourselves in the second-floor 
dining-room. We stand a moment. There are a 
score of loungers at the dozen tables, partaking of 
various unnameable dishes. Around the room at 
regular intervals are curtained niches, occupied each 
by two opium smokers. These aristocrats, clad in 
the loose garb of their country, lie facing one another 
on each side of the complicated smoking-set. Though 
some of the party pause at the parted curtains to 
gaze with curious eyes on what they term China's 
national vice, we pass the length of the room, throng) i 
draped archways and daintily furnished nooks with 
secluded tables for small parties, out upon the 
balcony, to sit for a few moments among the 



254 NOT AT HOME. 

unfamiliar flowers and to catch a breath or two of 
the mist-laden ocean air. 

Then five of us betake ourselves to one of the 
solitary tables, one of the gentlemen sends an order, 
and after a long time our curiosity, rather than our 
appetites, is satisfied. First comes a "John" with 
a white cloth for the table; another follows with 
dainty plates, two-tined wire forks, a plate of rich 
cakes, richer Chinese nuts, and lastl}^ tea-cups with 
china spoons and a little pot of steeping tea for each 
luncher. A third comes to pour our tea from the 
covered earthen bowls, and to serve sugar. He then 
brings a "carrier" of hot water, pours it over the 
leaves in each pot, and retires leaving us to enjoy 
the feast. The nuts are too strange to be relished, 
the cake too rich ; but the tea — ah ! my Kansas 
friends, you never tasted tea ; you don't know what 
it is, nor how to make it ! 1 haven't been able to 
endure hotel tea since. Paying the modest little 
price they ask (seven dollars and something), we 
make our last call for the night by gaining entrance 
to a Joss-house, or temple of worship. 

Up a long turning stairway we go, Avith frightful 
iiVx ..'^■es staring at us from every angle, and reach at 
last l!:g room of devotion, to be faced by great, 
hideous idols, before which stand offerings of food 
and water in silver urns. Dim candles burn, Avhat 
resemble battle-axes and spears bristle along the 
walls, huge parasols depend from the ceiling, deco- 
rated screens stand about, and artificial flowers are 
everywhere. A fine place for moralizing, as we 
stand before the wooden figures in all their ugly 
grotesqueness, here in the centre of one of the most 



LETTERS FROM CALlFORmA. 255 

beautiful cities of a Christian land — where, too, we 
have come to attend the National Educational Asso- 
ciation — a fine place ! 

Biit the town clock has lifted warning hands to 
eleven, and we must go. Many are satisfied and 
stop with this ; but a few of us desire to investigate 
theatre, tenant houses, opium dens, cellars, and sub- 
cellars, and turn homeward now with the in^vard 
resolve to see more. The " more '' T Avill detail in 
another letter. As we quit pitiable, ignorant, vile 
ChinatoAvn, before every door are being lighted long- 
sticks of punk, fastened upright, to drive away evil 
spirits. We go. Good-night ! 

Chinatown Impeopek. 

Very few of the original party (Tared to join us the 
second time we organized for exploration in China- 
town, and hence it was a small but determined 
group which gathered, about 9:30 one misty evening, 
in the parlor at Ko. G15 Stockton Street. All were 
strangers to me, and I w^ent this time as a mere 
matter of business (with a bit of curiosity thrown in). 
Messrs. Treplett and Kennedy had been detailed, 
upon apphcation to Morse's detective agency, as 
guides for the night ; and, thanks to our landlady's 
thoughtfulness, I found both . gentlemen attentive 
and communicative to a BepuUican reporter in 
search of information. 'Twas Saturday night, the 
most favorable of all for such an expedition, with 
just fog enough to obscure the struggling moon. 
"It is hardly late enough for things to be in full 
blast," said one of the guides; " but we'll visit above 



256 NOT AT HOME. 

ground for awhile. I hope,'' he added thouglitfuUy, 
"that you hidies have left all scruples at home." 

So we revisited groceries, drug-stores, barber- 
shops, laundries, restaurants, markets, etc., etc.; saw 
the busy little shoemaker in his 2 x -i stall, pounding 
away by one flickering light; saw the persistent jew- 
elers, with microscopic machinery and tools; smelled 
the ever-distinguished odor, a mixture between opium 
smoke and bad sewers ; trod again the narrow streets 
and alleys, jostling against the loose-robed, almond- 
eyed, jibbering crowds that scanned us with indiffer- 
ence or indignation and shambled on ; and forgot aver- 
sion, disgust, nausea,ever3"thing — in the perplexities of 
this great question which was momentarily taking a 
stronger hold upon us. Again we visited Joss- 
houses, where pipe and incense sent combined odors 
to the nostrils of sensitive visitors and senseless 
gods, and again traversed the frequented thorough- 
fares lined on either side with barred windows, each 
with its over-painted, leering female face — till we 
reached the entrance of a large Chinese theatre. 

We purchased tickets of a dumb Chinaman, who 
covered each half dollar and slipped back the paste- 
board with the same machine-like movement each 
time. We had not recovered from the surprise of 
having our tickets collected by a white (?) man, when 
we found ourselves passing through the low doors 
and narrow passages of tlie theatre's back entrance. 
So steep were the stairways and so contracted the 
halls that there was constant danger of igniting one's 
hair at the gas-jets that elbowed themselves out at 
every turn. 

Our guides pushed shamelessly on through the 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 257 

"green rooms," which are separated from one 
another and from the halls by carelessly looped 
curtains— pausing and lifting curtains to show us 
actors in tumbled stage costume dozing over opium- 
pipe between acts, others laughing and chattering 
in noisy groups, and others still, making u]) most 
highly colored fantastic costumes, daubing cheeks 
and lips before bits of mirrors, preparatory to going 
upon the boards. Up more narrow stairs and 
through more Indian-file hallways, and we found 
ourselves upon the back part of the stage, with just 
a screen between us and tlie audience. 

A word or two from one of the guides, a place was 
made for us immediately behind a row of seated 
actors, and in a moment we were experiencing the 
novel sensation of facing a Chinese audience. For a 
few minutes we could see nothing, because of the flare 
of the foot-lights in our eyes and the (without exag- 
geration) blue curtains of smoke that rolled and 
shifted above the ])eople's heads. But by and b}^ we 
could distinguish that every seat in the parquet was 
taken and nearly all in the gallery ; that the latter 
was filled with Avomen and children, the former 
with men. "We observed, too, that good attention 
was given, almost to breathlessness, and that the 
chief expression on the usually unreadable faces was 
either one of an intense yearning for excitement or 
one made stupidl}^ passive by the opium fumes. 

The play was apparently a traged3^ Two long 
benches of what I took to be judges, encircled the 
crouching form, of a woman, evidently on trial. 
Slie would lift her head and chatter in a monoto- 
nously fine key, then some of her long-bearded judges 
8 



258 NOT AT HOME. 

would chime in, and all would gesticulate and talk 
at once. The orchestra — oh, my ! how can I do it 
justice? Instead of sitting in the usual place it 
occupied a i)osition at the back part of the stage. It 
consisted of huge cjanbals, several two-stringed, 
whine}^ instruments, an exasperating triangle, and a 
terror inspiring gong. All during the scene we 
witnessed, this delightful music breathed melody 
upon the perfumed atmosphere. During the heavy 
parts it would do as above stated, in the superlative. 
There was no applause, only a series of gratified 
grunts, which, however, we did not feel like echoing 
until we had reached the outer air. If Dante could 
have viewed those glaring puppets, could have 
snuffed that delicate air, could have heard the start- 
ling reverberations of that awful gong, he would 
never have lacked inspiration for his "Inferno." 
Tragedy ! Yes, indeed. AVe took our handkerchiefs, 
but we used them for our ears and noses instead of 
our eyes. 

In direct contrast to the glare and noise of the the- 
atre and vicinit}" we took a new direction, threading 
by-streets and alleys, till "to a place we came where 
light was silent all." As we stumbled and groped 
on our dark way, a guide in front and one at the 
rear with dim candles, the air was becoming more 
and more damp and foul. We were "into the 
depths of Chinatown, into Cumcooks and Bartletts 
Alleys, where the old tenant houses, rising on each 
side like a wall of pestilence and misery, shut in only 
a little deeper misery, a little surer pestilence. Here 
it is where disregard of well-known sanitary laws, 
misplaced municipAl economy, and unchecked vice 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 259 

have their victiras, and, for want of time, must be 
described in the naked words gambling dens, opium 
dens, prostitution, and crime." 

Here is a typical tenement house, before which we 
pause while the guides renew their lights, that are 
too dim to read the inscription above the door. It 
is in hieroglyphics, anyway, but I know it must be 
— " All hope abandon, ye who enter here." At first 
we climb up banisterless, swaying stairs, and find, 
up two or three flights above a dark court, a kind of 
general kitchen, where dozens of families do their 
cooking at primitive open fires, and where, even at 
this hour of night, a dark figure or two are stooping 
over tubs of dirty water, from which they are wring- 
ing dirtier clothes, or rags. 

Up, around, through passages, and, to some magic 
word from our leader, little doors are opened, 
cautiously at first, then wider, disclosing the 
emaciated bodies of the thin, wizen faces which 
first appear — both necessary results of scanty, nur- 
tureless food and malarial air. Here they are — men, 
women, and children, crowded hi without the usual 
''always room for one more." They sit passively 
around upon beds or floor, while we hold our noses 
with one hand and examine this or that object with 
the other and our half-shut eyes. The men are 
invariably smoking, the women and children sewing, 
and the places — I cannot say rooms — in which they 
eat, sleep, live, move, and have their being, are — oh! 
so dirty, so stiflingly close! Door after door — the 
places are all alike ; the same sickening, saddening 
story. 

When we once begm going down stairs there 



260 NOT AT HOME. 

seems no stopping, no end to the descent, no bottom 
to the pit. Down, down we go, until exclamations 
fail and we relapse into the gvjldenness of silence. 

We are among the opium dens. Push open that 
door, and stand inside. You will find them all 
alike. 

Some of the ladies draw the line here and refuse 
to go any further, notwithstanding they are supposed 
to have left their scruples at home. But you, my 
readers, came to learn these ver}^ things; so calm 
your outraged sense of refinement, come in, and 
stand, as I do, suspiciously, shudderingly, close to 
one of the leaders. 

We are in the centre of a tiny room whose sides 
are fitted with shelves arranged for berths, one above' 
another, three to each wall. Upon these hard bunks 
covered with meagre padding, with heatls u})on 
soiled, indented pillows and feet toward the centre 
of the den, lie, two to each opium set, the victims of 
a habit whose extent is alarming. A '' set" consists 
of a pot full of the thin black paste before mentioned, 
a pipe with very long, thick stem, with large, flaring- 
bowl at the extremity. Into the opening of this bowl 
a ball of the paste is crowded, after it has been held 
upon a small paddle over the sickly, globeless lamp 
which ever burns between the two smokers, who lie 
face to face. 

The victim holds his paddleful, feeling it .and 
smelling it at intervals in a mechanical way, his 
trembling, eager fingers, and eyes wildly bright or 
drooping and dreamy, telling the state of mtoxication. 
After the bulb is inserted mto the pipe the lips are 
placed to the stem; one long-drawn wdiiff, during 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 261 

which smoke protrudes from tlie nostrils, and it is 
over. The operation must then be repeated, until 
the desired effect is obtained. A clock, drearily 
ticking the wasted hours, some Chinese literature, 
and perhaps an image or idol, are between the 
couples. And here they lie, wholly indifferent to or 
unconscious of our presence, negligently attired, legs 
folded and curled together, intent upon the one 
object. " There are but eight here, you see," said 
our informant. " Before morning the dens of this 
size will each contain twenty or more. All avail- 
able space is used for beds, with but passage room 
between. These tenement houses and cellars and 
sub-cellars send such large royalty to China that the 
renter must crowd m his tenants in order to make 
back the sum he has pledged almost his life — 
certainly his soul — to raise. And he knows he has 
the hold of this weed upon them. 

" To hasten the result upon the smokers there are 
no windows ; or, if any, like the doors they are kept 
shut. Let us try it," he ended laughingl}^, swinging 
the door to. Already are the little lamps burning 
dmily through the haze, and our breath coming in 
curiosity-stifled gasps. The closing of the door is 
too much for Kansas-brfed nostrils, and we find relief 
even in the damp, mouldy passage. Kear, we find a 
tinier cell, in which are two drunken men, a blind 
old woman, ten or twelve gaunt cats, bundles of dark 
old clothes, and dirty cooking utensils. The woman 
tells us m broken English that her husband is a fish 
merchant, that she has lived there fifteen years, and 
that her cats are to protect her from rats when she 
is left alone. We leave for outer air, with her 



2G-} KOT AT HOME. 

mournful '' Goo '-bye, ge'men ; goo'-b3'e, laclee, " ring- 
ing in our ears. 

Above ground once more, and as we pick our way 
through other alleys we learn aneAv what we have all 
read but never realized — of the sj^stematic organiza- 
tion this vast emigration is; of the premeditated 
vice ; of the high-binders societies ; of the police 
courts ; of bribes ; of the absolute want of virtue 
among women as well as men ; and, worst of all, of 
the constantl}^ renewed, efficient plans for enticing 
the youth of the city into the worst vices. All this 
you know, but you need to be reminded. All this 
you have read time and again, you say, and add, 
" Why hold up such sickening, repulsive pictures to 
a sensitive public? I've made up my mind on the 
C'hinese question, and j^ou can't change it." Read no 
longer. Philosophy holds no higher argument than 
that which Philip offered to I^athaniel : " Come and 
see."' Come and walk through the slums of China- 
town ; see the rows and rows of dark tenement 
houses, with sub-cellars often tunneled under streets ; 
stand helpless before the iron doors of the gambling 
dens, accessible only to axe and pick; walk for 
blocks and see Chinese, French, and American 
women leaning enticingly from windows even in 
broad daylight; hear, as did we, the opium-seller's 
fling, when, stung by reproaches for dealing in the 
drug, he said : " Ah, we not alone use him ! China- 
man come for it now. He not ashamed. Wait till 
three 'clock in morning. Then your nice American 
man comes for his. And your ladies, too — heap 
ladies!" Yes, "come and see"— see the wild, bright 
eyes, the dark lustful faces of these tempters of the 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 303 

city's boys and girls ; know the awful rapidity witli 
which the snares are spread, "Come and see" — see 
and hear and smell, and then do not, from tlie clean 
height of your serene, unchangeable belief, cry — 
" I thank God I am not like other men !" 

Look down if you will, but yield yourself over to 
the tender pit}^ which makes us more softly humane ; 
to the large, all-encompassing charity which makes 
us more like Him who "lived with the poor and 
died with the robber." 

There is really a brightening side to this; a pencil 
of light through the cloud ; a seed-pearl beneatli this 
ocean of vice and crime. Don't you know there 
always is, if we will seek it ? The morning before we 
left San Francisco we visited the Presbyterian Mis- 
sion Home, jSTo. 933 Sacramento Street, in the very 
heart of Chinatown. We were shown into the school- 
room, where twenty-nine Chinese girls rose modestly 
and respectfully to greet us. They recited, sang, 
repeated Bible verses, read reports of societies for 
us, showed us their needle-work, and were dismissed. 

Then from the teacher we learned, in brief, tliat 
the Home is suj^ported by the church, and by 
donation; is filled with girls and women rescued 
from lives of slavery or of shame ; that they are 
constantly harassed by claimants on the girls, \vlio 
invariably drag matters into the police courts; tliat 
tlie girls learn readil}^ are taught domestic arts, and 
are retained until marriage; that tlie Home is 13-| 
years old, during which time 203 persons have been 
admitted and 27 have been assisted back to China ; 75 
tunes have they been called to ])olice court. 55 mar- 
riages have been solemnized, and inestimaole <j-ood 



264 NOT AT HOME. 

has been accomplished. This is one of the many 
homes under the auspices of Occidental Board W. F. 
M. S. of the Pacific Coast. It is in charge of noble, 
earnest Christian women, who work on in face of 
every discouragement and who are performing a 
labor which, if small, is worthy at once of Christian 
support and sympathy, and must be pleasing in the 
sight of God. Come and see ! 



Santa Barbaka. — Montecito. 

Santa Barbara, Cal. 

" See Naples and die !" says the Neapolitan ; but 
they have a better saying here: "Come to Santa 
Barbara and live." Of all the places I have ever 
seen in the North, South, and AVest— the one of all 
others for historic interest, picturesqueness, and 
future promise, is Santa Barbara. 

Were you never here ? No ? And would you like 
to know of this, the most frequented resort in South- 
ern California? Now if I only had a guide-book or 
a travelers' compendium of information ! Ah, well, I 
have had what is just as good — conversation with 
such well-informed citizens as John Truslow, general 
agent of tlie Santa Fe route, and Professors J. W. 
Young and S. L. Combs, of the city schools. 

I learned, then, with pleasure what they told with 
pride— that Santa Barbara, aged 100 years, and just 
beginning to live is the county seat of Santa Barbara 
County, 100 by 70 miles in extent, and is located m 
the southern extremity of tliis one of the southern 
counties of the State. It has a population of over 



LETTERS FROM CALlrORMA. 205 

10,000, with the increase of an extra thousand of 
tourists, invalids, and pleasure-seekers during the 
winter season. This " fioatiug population " is increas- 
ing every year, and many of the floaters become 
citizens. J^o wonder. Why, think of the climate I 
think of but twenty-six days of last yea:- on which 
the temperature rose above 80 deg., and of these 
only six were in summer! Think of the year's 
warmest nights being 05 deg., and of these occurring 
in January as well as in August ! Think of 214 days 
being clear, out of 286 observed! and the mean 
temperature of the whole year 59.7, while that of the 
thre^ summer months is 65.4 — but five degrees' dif- 
ference. 

As I was saying, these pleasure and health seekers, 
drawn by evenness of temperature, sulphur springs, 
surf bathing, mountain scenery, etc., etc., are enter- 
tained in such palatial hotels as the Arlington and 
the EUwood ; and such elegant private places as the 
Misses Bragdon keep at No. 1,216 Santa Barbara 
Street, whence this letter is sent. 

Santa Barbara boasts of the best wharf south of 
San Francisco, and here lands the regular line of 
ocean steamers — four per week — with innumerable 
freight boats. It has four passenger trains per day 
over the Central Pacific, with stage connections with 
Templeton, where, one hundred miles north, another 
railroad is stretching its steel hands toward Santa 
Barbara. 

Then it is well lighted by electric lights; has 
street railway ; is furnished an abunilance of water 
through its works ; has many artesian wells ; a 
beautiful beach with bath-houses; telephone; two 



266 NOT AT HOME. 

opera houses, which attract the best artists; nine 
church organizations ; all the secret societies ; four 
handsome school buildings, accommodating twenty 
teachers and 1,600 children ; the St. A'^incent school, 
and Chinese schools of Presbyterian and Congrega- 
tional churches; three newspapers, two daily; a 
canning factory, planing-mills, olive-oil factory, and 
wood works where the most artistic carving is done; 
Y. M. C. A. building, public reading-rooms, and a 
library of 8,180 volumes, many of which are foreign 
— French, Spanish, and Chinese. 

Its streets, instead of being named in honor of the 
letters of the alphabet, have such musical names as 
Ortega, Lola, De Guera, and Anacapa. The main 
thoroughfare, State Street, running for nearly three 
smooth miles from wharf to foot-hills, excels all 
other streets you have seen, for durability, general 
cleanliness, and pleasant driving. The contract for 
■jiutting it in its present condition was taken for 
$160,000, construction being as follows : Digging 
to a certain depth, they first laid down large round 
stones, water-worn, of perhaps five inches diameter. 
These were placed to touch each other, with sand to 
fill crevices. Then comes a layer of rocks, crushed 
by machinery to about two inches. Over this was 
poured hot melted asphaltum, and lastly the top crust 
of bituminous rock, this also put down hot, and 
literally smoothed down with hot irons. The result 
is a most perfect street, smoothly elastic to tread of 
horse and man, easily swept, and so arranged that 
water can nowhere stand upon it. 

No one leaves Santa Barbara without visiting the 
old Mission, established here by the Franciscan 



LETTERS FROM VALIFORyiA. 267 

monks 1 < »2 years ago. A rticles have been, volumes 
might be, written on the subject of missions ; ol" the 
gigantic system adopted and practiced by the 
Spaniards for Christianizing the Indians; of the 
more than twenty missions, stretching a vast relig- 
ious and commercial chain from San Diego, where 
the first was built, to San Fiuncisco; of the hundreds 
of thousands of sheep, cattle, and mules, millions of 
dollars in dust, coin, and church fixtures — which 
were always of gold and silver — and of the 20,000 
converted ( () Indians, no more nor less than slaves to 
the various Missions. I'es, volumes might be writ- 
ten, and the research would be interesting; but I 
have already gone beyond the limits of a newspaper 
article. 

Yielding to our request and the promising prospect 
of coin from the gentlemen, a ''brother" accom- 
panied a party of four of us through this rare old 
building, which stands, a huge monument of the half- 
buried past, indifferent and silent amid the push and 
din of modern civilization. Through the long aisles 
of the dark chapel we moved with light tread and 
subdued voices, past the many altars with statues 
of Saint Francis, Santa Barbara, San Antoni, et al.\ 
pausing to comment upon the hand-made altar cloth 
of finest lace, in which the names of saints repeat 
themselvts; stooping to decipher the Latin inscri[)- 
tions on the tombs of martyrs, averting our fac( s 
from the too-faithful paintings of Christ's sufferings, 
traversing the central aisle over the hinges of doors 
which close above the bones of friars — "Where we 
shall all be laid," said our guide, with a mournful 
smile. The traditions and fragments of histo; \- 



368 ^OT AT HOME. 

with which he favored us before each picture, or 
statuette, or tomb, I regret that I must omit. 

We asceuded the tower for a view. Ah ! that is 
easier said tlian done. The narrow stone stairway 
reaches spirally from ground to dome, like a huge 
serpent, and we followed its many coils with panting 
nicety. But once in the tower we felt repaid. 
Santa Bai'bara, with its rows of business blocks, 
white, tree-lined streets, and beautiful suburban 
homes, stretched from the Mission's feet to the blue 
line of the Pacific; carriages, street cars, steamers, 
gliding train and interweaving throng, looking, from 
our height, like the world in miniature. To the left 
the foot-hills, rising ambitiously to the mountains 
which enclose the sheltered city, slope away and 
crouch out of sight, to disclose the verdant Monte- 
cito, where, 

" FJooded "with sunshine, a valley lies, 
And the mountains clasp it warm and sweet, 
Like a sunny child at their rocky feet." 

Crossing upon the slender walk beside the marbles 
of Santa Barbara, Mar}^ and the Babe, we found 
ourselves in the twin tower overlooking the grave- 
yard overgrown and neglected, and, further off, the 
ruins of the aqueducts and a water system of by-gone 
days. 

Back in the belfry, where we had heard the 
brother induce eleven monosyllables from a bell 
bearing date of 1804, we looked down into an 
enclosed garden, which, despite fountain and tropical 
shrub, scarcely deserved the epithet "perfectly 
beautiful !" since its doors are closed ao-ainst woman, 



LETTERS FROM CALFFORNIA. 269 

Hut one woman has ever been honored with admis- 
sion — the Princess Louise, who was here some win- 
ters ago. 

The vallej^ of Montecito, which we viewed in part 
from the Mission tower, is a fertile tract, seven miles 
by about three, and has been selected by many 
aristocratic and wealthy families for the homes they 
spend much time and money in making the Edens 
which they certainly are. If I were called upon to 
look for the angel with the flaming sword I should 
go at once to the entrance to the Montecito 
Valley. 

There are two main roads, wide and smooth, 
leading to this paradise of homes. One is but 
Montecito street "produced," as the mathematicians 
would say ; and through the avenues of live oak and 
pepper trees which mark it we drove one sunny 
afternoon when the air, just tempered by the sea 
breeze, was full of filmy, floating suggestions of the 
season. On either side appeared houses, comfortable 
and elegant, surrounded by orchards of orange, 
nectarine, peach, lemon, and apricot, ornamental 
trees of every tropical species, hedges of geranium, 
giant century plants, pampas grass tossing its soft 
plumes, great waxen callas by the dozens, roses, 
sweetest of all flowers. 



' You love the roses? So do I. I wish 
The sky would rain down i-oscs as they rain 
From off the shaken bush. Why will it not? 
Then all the valleys would be pink and white, 
And soft to tread on. They would fall as light 
As feathers, snu'lliiig sweet; and it would be 
I^ike sleeping, and yet waking, all at once!" 



NOT AT HOME. 



Then there were drooping fuchsias, white, purple, 
and red, the daisy imfamiliarly large, orange blos- 
soms among dark green leaves, passion flowers, sym- 
bolizing faith, and delicate ferns tracing themselves 
against white walls. 

Oh, so man}^ many, many 

Little homes above my head! 
Oh, so many, many, many 

Dancing blossoms round me spread! 

Oh, so many, many, many 

Lilies bending stately heads! 
Oh, so many, many, many 

Strawberries ripening in their beds! 

So between lines of hospitable oaiis that met al)ove 
in a canopy of leaves, we moved, stopped anon by 
new-made friends, and, over-ladened with flowers 
and fruit, pausing here to admire the scene about 
us, stopping there for a gourd of spring water from 
the hand of the dark native woman, who, sm^rounded 
by her children, was washing by the wayside — on 
and on, till 

" we touched the hem 

Of the dark mountain's robe, that falls in folds 
Of emerald sward around his feet, and there 
Upon its tufted velvet we sat down." 

Then, as the afternoon grew old, we loitered back 
over part of the way, but turning, as was our 
privilege, we dropped easily down the seven hundred 
feet of the valley's elevation and drove the home- 
ward miles by the smooth wide beach. The scene 
on the beach is worthy many an hour's study and 
many an exclusive article, instead of the after part 



LETTERS FROM C ALIFORM A. 'iTl 

of an already lengthy letter and the swift surve}^ we 
can give it as \v.> drive its crescent length in the fear 
of being late to dinner. 

From the Mesa to Ilincon, for fifteen miles, 
around an island-locked bay, curves the beach. 
Here may be enjoyed the never-wearying pleasures 
of bathing, sailing, seining, promenading, and 
driving. The wharf from the end of busy State 
Street thrusts its huge bare brown arm into the bay 
as if to remind us that pleasure is not all there is in 
life, and holds by its strong grasp the groups of 
anchored vessels, receiving their offerings into its 
never-filled palm. The railroad, like great iron 
sinews, binds it tt> the shoulder of the new land- 
ing. 

Back in the shelter of Castle Eock are reared the 
commodious bath-houses, around wliicii the street 
railway has thrown a long loop. Ropes for the 
bathers, like Ariadne's threads, lead out into the 
deep. The surf is full of bathers. It always is. 
How charming is the scene! Men, women, and 
children, looking like gayly clad water-gods leaping, 
plunging, splashing about, breasting the breakers, 
floating, swimming, chasing each other, laughing 
and sporting in the glee of good health and spirits ! 
Handsome turn-outs drawn by sleek horses dash 
along the hard sand, dipping wheels into the 
breaking foam. Groups of moss-gatherers, in drip- 
ping suits, stoop above the masses of kelp rolled up 
by the waves. Higher up on the sun-whitened 
beach, with parasol tents, sit solitary readers of 
interesting books. Riding parties sweep past, the 
horses' hoofs striking sharply on the compact road 



272 KOT AT HOME. 

or plasliing' in the sw^ft pursuing tide. Soldiers 
stray about, adding the blue and gold to the already 
iris-hued scene. Children race back and forth, to 
and fro, or build frail structures in the treacherous 
sand. 

On the whole, it is an inspiring scene here between 
city and sea, one which would melt the most prosy 
of natures. As for us, whose eyes have known only 
wide rolling prairie land, and whose natures are not 
altogether prosaic — we lean back in the carriage, and, 
inhaling deep draughts of the salt air, we gaze 
beyond the city to the foot-hills, beyond the foot- 
hills to the rugged battlements of the protecting 
mountams, and from mountains back to where the 
ocean sprites are tossing white, despaunng, spray- 
wreathed arms at our feet — turn from the grand 
repose of the mountains to the grand restlessness of 
the sea, and exclaim with hearts, if not with lips: 
This is the Lord's doings ; it is marvelous in our 
eyes. This is the day which the Lord hath made ; 
we wdl rejoice and be glad in it ! While 



The tide slips up the silver sand 
Dark nights and rosy days; 

It brings sea treasures to the land, 
Then bears them all away. 

On mighty shores, from east to west 

It wails, and gropes, and cannot rest. 

O tide, that still doth ebb and flow 
Througli night to golden day, 

Wit, learning, beauty, come and go; 
Thou giv'st — thou tak'st away. 

But some time, on some gracioiis shore 

Thou shalt lie still and ebb no more. 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA 273 

San Diego and Surkoundings. 

SoiJTHWAKD from Santa Barbara, soutli and east 
from where we catcli a last glimpse of the ocean in 
the Ventura valley — south and east, with just a 
pause at Los Angeles, then eastward through the 
beautiful orange groves in and about Pasadena, 
through the wide, mountain-girt valleys to San 
Bernardino, whence we swing about and face south- 
ward, dropping easily to Colton, then climbing, by 
many windings, five hundred tortuous feet to Box 
Springs. Warm it is, notwithstanding the altitude; 
but 'tis swift running now, all down-grade, and, trend- 
ing as we are, a little west of south, we will soon 
feel the atmosphere tempered with the sea breeze. 

Southward, southward still, through all the rich 
verdure of Southern California, typified in picturesque 
Temecula Canon, past colony-towns, groves, vine- 
yards, and apiaries, tiU sixty fair miles are measured, 
and through the windows of the flying coaches come 
faint suggestions of brin}?- coolness ; and through 
these same windows, as we pierce the promontory 
and slow into Oceanside, look many ej^es eager for 
the first glimpse of the tumbled, feathery locks of the 
old ocean. 

Oceanside, and still forty miles from our destma- 
tion ; but those tossing lines of foam advance and 
retreat all along the way, the declining sun spends 
his hot Avrath on the sea mist, and the air is cool the 
remainder of the journey. The train curves about 
to keep in call of the billows, till a final sweep 
brings us in sight of a real crescent city (in both 
senses of the word crescent)— in reality a trio of cities 



^U ^^OT A 7' HOME. 

— bowing gracefully around the most beautiful bay 
on the Pacific coast : seventeen miles in total, the 
tri-cities of Old Town, San Diego, and National 
City. 

Once made welcome in tlie elegant home of Mr. 
and Mrs. J. K. Hamilton, and we give ourselves over 
for nearly two weeks to the delight of being driven 
about and shown the beauties and wonders of San 
Diego and its inexhaustible, interminable "back 
country." Delights indeed ! when your staying is 
urged, surprises planned, excursions by land and 
w^ater, and all by such people as our hosts, who daily 
discover to you new and unguessed meanings to the 
words already so full of meaning to the wanderers' 
hearts — California hospitality. 

San Diego is the Wichita of California; all Kansas 
readers will know what that means. Even our own 
wonder of the Arl^ansas cannot with contrasted 
statistics surpass this modern phenomenal Minerva, 
wdiich seems to have sprung at once from the parent 
head of Progress into full-grown metropolitanism — 
but one stride from the infant of yesterday to the 
giant of to-day. 

" Prove the assertion," some southern Kansans, 
well versed in booms, are clamoring. 

Emory describes San Diego in 1846 as "a few 
adobe houses, of which two or three only had plank 
floors." In 1850 the assessed value of city property 
was barely $30,000. Three decades later and the 
statistics say $2,570,000. Look again ! and to-day's 
figures read $21,000,000. Four years ago there was 
not a two-story business block on the town site. 
The past two years have witnessed the erection of 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORXTA. 375 

803 buildings (181 business blocks), at total cost of 
$3,04-l,70(>; and this estimate takes no note of build- 
ings costing less than $1,000. Now the tourist is 
driven between blocks and blocks and mile upon 
mile of three, four, and live-story solid fronts. 
Four years, and the six or seven thousand people 
have multiplied, and added, into 30,000. Think of 
one year's freight receipts amounting to 175,000 
tons ! of 154,000,000 feet of lumber coming into the 
city ! of 82,5< >0 arrivals, averaging nearly 7,000 per 
month, and of real estate transfers amounting to over 
$26,000,000 ! 

Is the assertion proven ? I have before me double 
columns of official statistics ; but they have so much 
less of living meaning than is afforded by a couple 
of hours' drive over the city with one of her devoted 
residents, Avho has made and is investing his money 
within her limits! Such is our host. On such a 
drive you could discover the city's resources and 
conveniences in overwhelming quantities. 

A continental railway system is unfinished until 
it touches tide water at either extreme, and brings 
ship and car together. The points at which this 
connection is made are the termini of the line. Of 
the four great trans-continental railroads in the 
United States, one reaches the Pacific on Puget 
Sound, two at San Francisco, and one at San Diego. 

The A. T. and S. F., realizing the importance of 
the last-named, notwitlistanding it has a line from 
Los Angeles here via San Bernardino, completed and 
opened August 15th what it terms the Surf Koute, 
almost an air line to Los Angeles, following the 
beach to San Juan, plunging through the heart of 



276 NOT AT HOME. 

the orange country around Sanla Ana and Orange, 
thus shortening the route by live hours. 

This gives through palace cars from San Diego to 
Chicago without change. 

This being a port of entry, gives, beside the United 
States custom house, miUtary post, barracks, etc., 
daily arrivals of vessels from all quarters of the globe ; 
monster ships, whose soiled, wind- whipped sails and 
water-stained sides, rouse all the wandering blood in 
one's veins, and make one long to cast his lot with 
the "deep water men," and ''set his foot on the 
ship and sail away to the ice fields and the 
snow." 

The bay of San Diego is 13 miles long, total area 
22 square miles, with 23 feet of water over the har- 
bor bar, and is one of the most perfectly land-locked 
harbors in the coast. Emory esteems it safer than 
San Francisco, because of more uniform climate, per- 
fect anchorage, and security from winds. It certainly 
has the advantage of being some -loO miles nearer 
New York, by rail, and perhaps twice as many by 
water, than San Francisco. Steamers of the P. C. S. 
S. Company and International Company arrive three 
times a week each. 

You would discover after you had disentangled 
yourself from the railroad and steamship web, that 
the street railway deserves notice : twenty miles in 
operation in city limits, to say nothing of lines con- 
necting Old Town, National City, and Coronado, and 
reaching to all the back country suburbs and interior 
hamlets — motor, horse, and electric lines, wliich in 
conjunction with Coronado ferry, are continually 
busy. Then there are a telephone system reaching 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 277_ 

all interior points, using 400 miles of wire; 30 miles 
of graded streets; 47 miles of sewers; electric lights 
and gas, and the most gigantically satisfactory solu- 
tion of the most vexing of all California's questions 
— that of water supply. 

Ignoring the many independent domestic supplies, 
and overlooking, for the sake of greater brevity, even 
the Sweetwater dam, 90 feet high by 3i'0 in length, 
flowing 740 acres, let me pass at once to the great 
flume project now nearly complete. Forty -five miles 
from the city the 1,500-acre reservoir captures the 
waters of the upper San Diego River and directs 
them into the immense flume, which is 36 miles long 
from the diverting dam to the city reservoir, nine 
miles distant. The distributing reservoir is 500 feet 
above sea level. The daily capacity of the flume is 
60,000,000 gallons, in addition to the amount neces- 
sary to irrigate 5(»,000 acres of land. The total cost 
is estimated at over $1,000,000, and you may well 
imagine that the water supply question is settled 
for all time. 

Then there are beautiful school buildings, accom- 
modating over 3,000 children ; and church buildings 
to represent all denominations ; free public library, 
natural history society, and, as you drive along, you 
can glance up to imposing buildings and see engraven 
or painted combinations of the alphabet which have 
come to mean so much — I. O. O. F., K. of P., G. A. 
K, A. O. U. W., Y. M. C. A., and W. C. T. U. "So 
much !" scarcely expresses all that the last two com- 
binations mean to the American father and mother, 
unless, indeed, so is as deep and wide and full as in the 
'' God so loved the world tliat Tie gave Ilis only begot- 



2^8 NOT AT II03IE. 

ten Son that whosoever believeth in Ilim shonld not 
perish, but have everlasting life.'" 

Of the many pleasant excursions upon which we 
were taken I can mention but few, and detail none ; 
space forbids. 

To Tia Juana, across the line in Old Mexico, via 
National City, and Otay. Here we went through a 
Mexican custom house. Nineteen miles into back 
country, through the vast raisin vineyards to the 
beautiful Linda Lake, is another fine trip taken one 
pleasant day. En route we passed the five-acre-tract 
suburban homes, the semi-country residences a-whirl 
with wind-mills, and up into the mountain land 
where from certain elevations we could look back 
and down upon the three cities, yet as one ; the smooth 
bay in the land's embrace, the huge Coronado riveted 
to the main land b}^ the slender steel-ribbed isthmus ; 
Point Loma, sitting nine miles distant in the sea, an 
Aphrodite with her light-house crown ; busy trains 
and steamers vieing with each other, on land and 
water, and a faint sea mist drifting over all. We 
took dinner that day far up in the mountain land, 
under a hospitable tree beside a stick fire, gypsy fash- 
ion, obtaining water for coffee by digging a foot or 
more into the sand of the hidden river — another of 
California's disguised blessings. 

We drove home by way of the great flume, saw 
the water, clear as crystal, flowing cityward in quan- 
tities sufficient to float skiffs, saw the camps of the 
workmen, the trains of huge wheeled affairs (I don't 
Vno\x what else to call them), each one drawn by 
eight, somotinv^s ten horses. Ah, no! the flume is no 
myth ; for m /ths don't quench thirst— especially 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 2T9 

Kansas thirst. And yet there are people in San Diego 
who have no faith in the flume. Seeing is believing ; 
so is drinking. 

Another day we drove to Coronado ; in fact, we 
went several times, and explored, beside, the largest 
hotel in the world, perhaps — surely in the United 
States — the Ward Museum, the electric light plant, 
ice factory, furnace, shops, laundry, and working 
places of the island. 

Coronado Islands lie directly in front of the city. 
They are really one peninsula, joined to the main- 
land by a thin ribbon strip some four hundred yards 
wide, which makes a wide detour, leaving the bay 
perhaps a mile wide. Three years ago these islands 
were purchased by Babcock and Story — the latter is 
the Chicago organ manufacturer — and the scheme 
was conceived of converting them, all rough and cov- 
ered with sage brush, into an aristocratic and attrac- 
tive watering place. Men laughed, and said ''Im- 
possible !" But two million dollars has been able to 
convince both men and sage brush of the uselessness 
of o])position, and to-day a broad avenue traverses 
the island from bay to ocean, one and one-fourtli 
miles, with a double row of orange trees planted the 
entire distance, between which runs the street rail- 
way, and on each side of which are drive-ways also 
planted with shade trees. A boulevard runs around 
the entire island, and 140-foot avenues check it at 
regular intervals ; 3,300 lots had been sold up to 1S87, 
and Coronado has all the privileges and luxuries of 
the city — perhaps more. 

But the centre of the visit's interest was and is 
the niammoth Hotel del Coronado, erected at the 



2«0 NOT AT HOME. 

cost of $1,000,000. The ground plan occupies 
twenty solid acres. In this is included space of 
large interior court, magnificent with- tropical 
plants. The building is four stories high, is sur- 
rounded on all sides by a twenty-foot veranda, and 
is so arranged that each one of the 750 rooms gets 
the sunshine during some part of the day. The 
hotel is a city under one roof ; for every want may 
be gratified by a mere touch of the bell. Then there 
are music halls, ball-room, theatre, and bilhard- 
rooms. The office is 60 feet square, the dining- 
room 62 X 1 56. Of course it has every modern 
convenience — elevators, electric bells, lights, etc. 
Uut fancy the size, if you please, wiien I say that 
14,000 barrels of cement were used in its construc- 
tion ; that carpet is estimated by the acre ; the 
unsteady part of the furniture consists of 4,000 
rocking-chairs, and that a promenade of the 
inner porches about the court continuously will 
end in a constitutional of nearly one mile and a 
half. 

The last excursion we took was by moonlight on 
San Diego Bay, the evening before our departure. 
The steamer Roseville was chartered by one of the 
numerous yachting clubs of the city, an Italian band 
and the Coronado colored quartette Avere employed, 
the one for the upper, the other for the lower deck; 
and 11 o'clock surprised us before moonlight, music, 
or water had lost its charm. 

My pleasure of the evening was due to L. A. 
Wright, city editor of the San Diego Union, and to 
C. F. Degelmann, also a membei' of the Union staff, 
and one of California's most popular authors. The 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 381 

former was a schoolmate of mine in Emporia, who 
came West, and, just as every one expected, has 
gained a permanent position in the field of journal- 
ism. San Diego is full of noted people: Captain 
Winder, Bancroft, the historian, Kate Field, Theo- 
dore Van Dyke, Eose Hartwick Thorp, Harr 
Wagner, and "Madge Morris" are all here. 

Besides the fourteen newspapers published, there 
are four or five monthlies. At the head stands one 
as well known over the United States as IIarjj<.r 
itself, and older here on the Pacific coast than Over- 
land-?,: It is the Golden Era^ edited by Harr 
Wagner, with departments and contributions by 
the best-known writers of our country, among whom 
rank Kose Hartwick Thorp and Mr. Wagner's wife, 
"Madsre Morris." I can close this letter on San 
Diego in no better fashion than by quoting from 
" Madge Morris's " dainty souvenir poem — " At San 
Diego Bay ": 



Id silence sleeps the bay no more; 

Its treasury of wealth is found, 
And all its crescent curving shore 

With infant cities girded round; 
And thiough its gateway come and go 

The sails of sun and sails of snow; 
And Progress to this old new West 

Has turned her face and set her seal, 
Has bound her waters, broke her hills, 

And shod the desert sands with steel; 
Oh, land of sun— hot, splendid sun; 

Of sea-cool winds and Southern moons; 
Of days of calm and nights of balm, 

And languorous, dreamy moons! 
It needs no seer to tell for thee 

Thy quickly coming destiny! 



iiOT AT ROME. 



Homeward. 

I have not told you yet — 

That it required just twenty-four different engines 
to draw our excursion train from Kansas City to San 
1^'rancisco. 

That our national badges of blue and gold were 
gifts to the Association from the Oakland teachers. 

That while in San Francisco we went through the 
office of the Morniiuj Chrouide, M. H. De Young, 
editor. The paper has a circulation of 50,000, em- 
ploying in all departments 225 men. They are about 
to erect a ten-story building on Market, the principal 
street. Information, file of papers, and other courte- 
sies received from J. B. Elliot, business manager. 

That on the evening we went through ChinatoAvn 
one gentleman remarked that it would take more 
than Chinese half-dollars to induce him to go, so that 
the Chinese quarters were not to be considered ! 

That in Governor Ross's 300-years-old house in 
Santa Fe there is an historic room — one in which 
Wallace wrote his wide-known " Ben Hur." 

That in San Diego is the house in which Lieuten- 
ant Greely was married. 

That in passing from Newhall to Santa Barbara 
we viewed the scenes which Helen Hunt has made 
famous in "Ramona." 

That the "Kansas headquarters" in the Palace 
Hotel, San Francisco, was fairly thronged during 
N. E. A. week, by "formerly from" Kansans anx- 
ious for a word about our popular State. 

That Prentis is right when he says — "I have 
spoken of the locomotive as a symbol of civilization. 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 283 

but there is another quite as expressive : It is the 
empty fruit and oyster can. These are now strewn 
all over New Mexico and the world. These evi- 
dences of departed concentrated provisions are every- 
where now ; in the wake of the Jemmette, and the 
trail of the African Stanley. A visitor to the 
interior of the pyramids finds the former receptacle 
of cove oysters, and if you take the wings of morn- 
ing and fly to the uttermost parts of the earth, you 
will light on a sardine box. When the would-be 
explorer begins to recite— 'This is the forest 
primeval,' his pride is crushed by discovering the 
empty tomato can of a ])rior visitor. How perfectly 
the West has been subjugated is shown by the 
amount of old tin cans strewn over the territory to 
tempt the appetite of her goats." 

That I shall not soon forget the date July 2<:>, 1888, 
for it was the day on which I saw the Pacific Ocean 
for the first time. A party of five of us went to 
Cliff House over the classical Sutro Heights; and 
from that eminence I gazed down upon the wide, 
restless deep, of which I had dreamed and written 
so much— gazed, silenced and awed. "There!" 
demanded my friends trium]7hantly, "• give us a quo- 
tation on that." 

And I, who had indulged in Holmes's apology for 
quoting 

" I'm a florist in X^erse, and what would people say 
If I came to the banquet without my bouquet?" 

was indeed flowerless for once. No, no! the grand- 
est poem ever written on the sea has no such rythmic 
grandeur as the sea itself. I was bewildered and 



jJ84 NOT AT HOME. 

mute. I think I wanted to be alone ; though if I 
had been, I fear I should have felt as uneasy and 
selfish as the King of Batavia, who in the solitude of 
his royal theatre had the performance all to himself. 

Fully half the pleasures and sights of the summer 
I have left unwritten : the visits to Woodward's 
gardens, Golden Gate Park, and the Diamond 
Palace at San Francisco, and the excursion on the 
three steamers — OaMand, Encinal, and Belfjlc — 
around San Francisco Bay; the picnic up Morris 
Canon ; the elegant dinner with H. O. Chittenden 
and family, the first familiar faces in an unfamiliar 
land ; the weekly band concerts at Hotel Arlington ; 
the hearing of Fanny Davenport at Santa Barbara ; 
the pleasant two days' stop at Pasadena with friend 
F. N. Kline and wife; visit to Kaymond Heights 
and Devil's Gate ; our brief stops, returning, at Los 
Angeles and San Bernardino ; and the home-turning 
thoughts — all are and must be untold. 

Weeks, weeks have passed since we turned our 
faces toward the West. Back in the clime we call 
home, I know July has shaken abroad his blazing 
torch till all the land is scorched into fitness for the 
'' fire month — for August, the ripeness of the year, 
the glowing centre of the circle." Here are sea 
breezes, cool mountain springs, and broad-palmed 
leaves. Why not stay? . Ah— 

"I hear a voice you cannot hear, 
Which says I must not stay; 

I see a hand you cannot see, • 

Which beckons me away!" 

There is purpose in it all — our blazing July, our 
scorching August. A wise one has said that there 



LETTERS FROM CALIFORNIA. 285 

are deep, unreached places for whose sake the prob- 
ing sun pierces doAvn his glowing hands. There is a 
deeper work than June can perform. The earth 
must drink of the heat before she knows her nature 
or her strength. Then shall she bring forth to the 
uttermost the treasures of her bosom, for there are 
things hidden far down ; and the deep things of life 
are not known till the fire reveals them. And so 
farewell to the gray coolness of the towering cliffs, 
the solitude of the great cities and canons, the 
refreshing breath of the mighty ocean ! 

There is a " last " of all things ; a last glimpse of 
the waters, a last view of semi-tropical landscape, a 
last tunnel, and a last dim outline of the grand old 
Kockies. Then there is the last night of sleep over 
swift, whirling Avheels, and when we wake — what ! 
has the summer been but a dream? 

" Here are the fields again; the soldierly corn in tassel 
Stands on review, and carries the scabbarded ear in its armpit," 

and the trees by the drowsy streams, and the grass 
only a trifle bronzed. Where are the foot-hills, the 
pines, and the mountains ? where are we ? "We are 
gliding past gleaned fields, growing towns, and 
stretches of prairie dotted with school-houses. 
This must be Kansas. " School-house to the front, 
saloon to the rear!" — yes, this is Kansas; this is 
home. 

And no dream, for the porter comes to say — 
'•Xearly to Hutchinson, ma'am, with an hour and 
fifteen minutes to the breakfast station." 

At the end of that time w^e have parted from 
'' voyage acquaintances/' and stand gazing up the 



386 NOT AT HOME. 

track after the Atlantic express, inwardly saying : 
" No, we haven't traveled enough. We've measured, 
in all, 4,800 miles this summer ; but we are not sat- 
isfied. We want to see that former receptacle of 
cove oysters in the interior of the pyramids, and 
have a strange longing to light on the aforemen- 
tioned sardine box in the uttermost part of the 
earth. And when the Santa Fe route has com- 
pleted its projected line to the moon, 'via Semipalatsk 
and theYstrayfodwg, we're going if we can raise the 
fare — see if we don't !" 

One closing thought ere I cut this fabric letter, 
hastily woven out of waste threads from all the 
others, and ere I say farewell to you for whom I 
have written. And what shall this "last" of my 
last thoughts be ? What, indeed, but one of thanks- 
giving and gratitude to Him who has so mercifully 
kept His promises to me — promises read in the 
shelter of the last home Sabbath with all the jour- 
ney yet untried : 

" Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean 
not upon thine own understanding. In all thy ways 
acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths. 
When thou liest doAvn thou shalt not be afi'aid. 
Yea, thou shalt lie down and thy sleep shall be 
sweet." 

And has He not fulfilled them beyond my 
deserving? Who knows but it may have been 
because of that last prayer that followed me, a 
prayer that rang all the way m my soul's hearing : 
" May -the wisdom of God instruct thee ; may the 
word of God make thee eloquent ; may the hand of 
God protect thee !" 



LETTEliS FROM CALtFOllNlA. 287 



' My task is done, my song hath ceased; my theme 
Hath died into an echo. It is fit 
The spell should break of this protracted dream. 
The torch shall be extinguished which hath lit 
My midnight lamp— and what is writ is writ. 
Would it were wortliier! * * * * 

Farewell! A word that must be, and hath been 

A sound which makes us linger— yet— farewell ! 

Ye who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene 

Which is his last, if in your memories dwell 

A thought which once was his, if on ye swell 

A single recollection, not in vain 

He wore his scandal-shoon and scallop-shell; 

Farewell!" 

Byron. 



FRAGMENTS 

FEOM STORIES, PEIVATE LETTERS, 
DIARIES, Etc. 



FRAGMENTS. 391 



v.— FKAGMENTS. 



" Change" would be unendurable, but for its com- 
panion "Onward." 



What a want of faith there is in the world — both 
ours and the poet's ! 

—From ''The Gate:' 



I USE the word " own," because a friend always 
seems a real possession to me. 



" How shall I rear my child ?" is the question of 
the age; and a neglect of it would threaten the 
most stable government. 



* * * But ofttimes it would seem 
111 news weighs down the heart, that it may swing 
In higher scale when Truth's hand shifts the weight. 

—From " liar 



As COLD is dispelled by heat, shadow by sunshine, 
tears by smiles, so doubtings, skepticisms, and cold 
natures must be met with their opposites — hope, faith, 
and love. 



292 NOT AT HOME. 

The deliverance of mankind, the alleviation of 
suffering, the salvation of the world, depend on indi- 
vidual improvement ; on the highest development of 
which the individual is capable. 



The things we plan with nicest care are those 
Which seldom fall according to our plan. 
We only hold Life's many threads for Fate, 
That she may weave a pattern to her whim. 

—From " Ila:^ 



And will to-morrow bring the message ? No, no ; I 
tell myself I do not expect it, and I shall not be dis- 
appointed. But I fancy Jove understood human 
nature when he confined Hope at the bottom of 
Pandora's box. 



The words, unuttered, died upon her lips ; 
Each gazed into the other's eyes entranced, 
Drew nearer, each obeying unseen power. 
What need of tardy words when souls have met^ 
Eyes speak to eyes what lips would else deny. 

— From ^'' Ila. 



After that, things went on smoothly enough. 
The ice that locked the river looked just as smooth 
and clear as ever, regardless of the threatening tide 
tiiat ran dark and rapid beneath. * * -s*- No one 
ever dreamed of the rapid current that ran beneath 
the icy exterior of affairs. 

—From "St Stephens:'' 



FRAGMENTS. 293 

Ah, yes ! friend, I believe we have twofold natures. 
How would it be, if we lived only in the material? 
Where then would be all the pleasant communication 
per thought with absent friends? What then would 
fill the great empty Silence ? How then could we 
endure the tyrant Distance ? What then of the 
intangible messengers bearing our thoughts to those 
we love and our prayers to the "Great Gates"? 



Yes, I am more than ever convinced that the man 
who thinks deepest is best. For at the extreme 
point — the ultimatum where despair comes to the 
ordinary thinker — inspiration comes to him ; and 
the Universal God speaks through him. Here a 
thought suggests itself: Is not inspiration often born 
of despair? I have dreamed that only a desperate 
necessity will awaken the full powers of my being. 



No, I cannot thiuK that the coming poetry will be 
dramatic, nor that the drama will ever be as univer 
sal as in Shakespere's time. The dramatic is not my 
highest ideal of poesy; nor can I agree with you 
that in its highest development it becomes the ' best 
language for the outburst and overflow of joy in 
infinite goodness and beauty.' My ideal — contrary 
to my pennings — is that it is the most beautiful, the 
most searching, the most forcible expressions of 
trutlis (truths which all lead up to the Great Central 
Truth) — expressions which shall teach and guide 
men, rather than be mere reflections and echoes of 
their emotional nature. 



294 KOT AT HOME. 

The class in Greek have just begun their weary 
march with the "Ten Thousand," while the Latin 
class are wandering among the smoking ruins of 
Troy. The evenings are fast becoming too short for 
these very interesting and very long lessons; and 
often the "wee" hours surprise us unraveling the 
delicate webs of thought, unmindful of the poet's 
advice on the page before us — " Suadentque cadentia 
sidera somnos." 



She saw the world as it is — a beautiful world, but 
a world that held sorrow as well as joy, for all. She 
looked upon life as only they can look who have 
stood near its last gate, and saw it the brief, bitter- 
sweet life that it is. But her thoughts did not stop 
here. With a great impulse, wrought only by fer- 
vent prayer, she broke the ties that bound her down 
to sorrow and to self, and she contemplated at last the 
image of the Eternal as reflected in her own soul. 
—From " St. Stephens:' 



There is a sadness about performing even the 
simplest act when it is for the last time ; and though 
the degree differ, the feeling is the same, be it the 
last foot-fall in some accustomed haunt or the last 
look upon a dead face ere tlie coffin lid closes. 

Last looks are tenderest ; 

The sunset light is on the past ; 
The last wine is the best, 
Oh, days most sad, most sweet — 

The best— the last! 

—Fwvi ''The Gate:' 



IIavk you heard the distant murmur — "Peace on 
earth, good will to men"^ I have often thought, 
What need of the " Be ye therefore perfect"^ When 
" Peace on earth " becomes universal, shall we not 
have reached perfection? How shall we attain to 
this universal happiness ? Make your own individual 
home peaceful; and as the homes are, so shall the 
nations be; as the nations, so the world. Whether 
or not this be true, with Goethe we do know, that 
he is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds 
peace in his home. 



Work, work ! work to an end — to some definite, 
tangible, local end. Peach it, and then work to the 
one you liave set just ahead. The chief fault which 
other mortals find with writers is that they are 
dreamy, impractical, and are moved by " inspira- 
tion.'" And there is truth in it. We — you and I — 
all of us — dream too much and do too little. We 
set half-a-dozen literary schemes afoot and then fret 
when one morning we discover that none of them 
are maturing themselves. Let us form the habit, 
then, of finishing what we begin — of doing what 
we attempt. " Nothing succeeds like success." 



Once, far back in those ages, the true Source of 
Liglit rose o'er the unconscious world, heralded i)y 
Bethlehem's star. But the cold mists of doubt 
settled again over the minds of men, and they who 
were first to cry " All hail I" were first to cry 
"Crucify! Crucify!" What though miracles were 



296 NOT AT HOME. 

wrought, Faith wept, and even Reason argued? 
still they plunged back into the old darkness and 
misery. 

They could not know the source was divine, for 
its brilliancy rendered their inward darkness only 
more complete. AfterAvard, looking back in terri- 
lied awe on their Avork, perhaps these men beheld 
something more, above and beyond the halo about 
the Cross. For since then, though shrouded in most 
deplorable darkness, the human heart, like a neg- 
lected plant, has ever reached out instinctively to 
the faintest suggestion of light. 

For the heart, tho' long neglected. 
Plunged in vice's deepest night. 

At the dawn turns back instinctive, 
Like a flower to the light. 

—From. ''Light, More Lights 



So PASSED the summer — long, idle, dreamy days 
among books and flowers, and filled with music and 
the past. * '^ '" Autumn came, and — work. What 
would not one come to if not withdrawn from reflec- 
tion, and B3"ron, and self ? And what better for this 
withdrawal than school work 'i Bless the children ! 
For while 

" 1 have taught them the goodness of knowledge. 
They have taught me the goodness of God." 

Is not the school society in miniature ? And 
in the study of humanity must not one forget petty 
wrongs 1 



FRAGMENTS. 297 

"When the eyes become adjusted to the dim light 
of error, genuine truth dazzles and blinds them. 
And this brings us to the last, to the greatest of 
modern errors : 

Bold with joy. 

Forth from his lonely hiding place i 

(Portentous sight !) the owlet Atheism, 
Sailing on obscure wings athwart the noon, 
Drops his blue-f ring'd lids and holds them close ; 
And, hooting at the glorious Sun in heaven. 
Cries out — " Where is it?" 

Poor owl ! you must see the Sun by its own light; 
and Truth must be seen in a like manner. 

— From " Light, More LightP 



Sometimes one feels himself armed against the 
world with but a pen in hand. Troop after troop of 
thoughts run ahead of the despairing pen, and cross 
and recross, and weave and interweave in such 
beauty that it seems the pen has naught to do but to 
drag ink along in their tin}^ paths. The whole 
English language seems a great, pliable mass, which 
one may part and combine, bend and shape at will. 
There comes at the mind's call an almost overwhelm- 
ing troop of bright expressions, the brightest of 
which drop down through the pen to paper. Xo 
need to think of rhymes then. The words fall into 
their proper places by magic ; and what harm if it b^ 
afterward discovered that they chance to rhyme ? 



398 NOT AT HOME. 

There was once a King who had a guest chamber 
in his palace, and in that palace an iron bedstead. 
All travelers who were too short for the bedstead — 
so runs the fable — Avere stretched to its length ; and 
those who were too long were cut off. 

You are smiling over my fable ; and yet did you 
ever think how many iron bedsteads there are in the 
world ? Did you ever think how few of the so-called 
'* general rules " are general enough to be made iron- 
clad ? Did you ever think how many people there 
are whose standard of judgment is cast iron ? 

I never hear a physician unhesitatingly prescribe 
the same unvarying remedy for a number of patients 
afflicted with a named disease ; I never hear a teacher 
ussign the same course of reading to a class of a 
dozen or more pupils; I never see a mother inflict 
the same set punishment on all her children for a 
<;3neral offense — and all these without considering 
the surrounding and modifying circumstances, or 
consulting the habits, tastes, and individualit}^ of 
pitient, reader, and child — but I am Jed to think of 
llie King's iron bedstead and his peculiar practice of 
making all travelers conform to its length. 



The culling of the mail, which brings papers from 
the four points, suggests the thought that news, to be 
fresh, has come to mean, nowadays, the record of 
events scarcely transpired. The strike goes on — the 
festival, the funeral, the banquet ; and the nucleus 
for the news is hardly formed ere it is transpierced 
by the telegraph wire, and drawn away too quickly 



FRAGMENTS. 299 

for particulars to cling to it. A thought is coined 
in hall or senate-chamber ; and its echo has not died, 
when lo! a few strokes of the reporter's pencil, a 
murmur of telegraph wires, and the click-click of 
type have sown it broadcast over the land. 

The press is the sleeping Argus of the world ; and 
the unceasing hum of the ever-changing type is the 
only music that keeps time to the strides of Progress. 

It is the last sound heard by the late reveler in 
the wee sma' hours ; it is the first to waken the 
laborer to take up his burden of life again. " Iron- 
quill" has the thought in — 

" All night the sky was draped in darkness thick. 
Out from the clouds imprisoned lightnings swept 
Into the printer's stick, 
With energetic click ; 
The ranks of type into battalions crept, 
Which formed brigades while dreaming labor slept. 
And ere dawn's crimson pennons were unfurled 
The night-formed columns charged the waking 
world!" 



Yestekday came to us the sad tidings of the death 
of Minnie Eaton, one of tlie brightest and most 
promising young girls of our little community, 
which will never agam seem itself. The school, the 
church, the pleasure part}'- will alike miss her happy 
face and modest, pleasing ways. How vividly does 
the taking of one so near our heart and home recall 
the half-terrifying truth that "there is no flock, 
however watched and weU attended, but one de;u| 



;5i)U NOT AT HOME. 

lamb is there"! We cease from our dail}- toil to 
ponder shudderingly on the infinite unfathomable — 
to be ; pause on the margin of an open grave to 
wonder and to weep. We know that the tide of 
death never returns shoreward ; but 'gainst what 
rock does the outgoing wave dash? Some writer 
says, "It may be that death gives all there is of 
worth to this life. If those Ave press and strain 
against our hearts could never die, perhaps that 
love would wither from the earth." It may be. 
We only know their hands turn cold beneath our 
farewell kisses ; that our passionate sobs and broken 
prayers follow them in vain ; that they never come 
back to us. And the comfort lies in this, that death 
hath one conqueror — love ; love who says : 

" This hour is thine. 
Thou art the shadow of life ; and as the tree 
Stands in the sun and shadows all beneath, 
So in the light of great Eternity 
Life eminent creates the shade of death; 
The shadow passeth when the sun shall fall, 
But I shall reign forever over all." 



The leaves had changed too. The trees, which we 
left in full verdure, had turned to monuments of gold 
and amber, and the lifeless grass had bent southward 
as if in the mournful effort to follow as far as 
])ossible its spirit, flown to the land of flowers. 
And oh, of all sad changes! Death had come and 
gone with his' burden of twin souls. Beside her 
sister in the little family burying-ground is a smaller 
,';':a\v, vrhose hend-|>iccc bears the name — '"Edith 



FliAGJIEJSlK 301 

Eaton." We have loved her. We shall miss her. 
That expresses it all. Her death — how sudden, how 
untimely! Ah! trul}'^ — 

" Leaves have their time to fall, 

And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, 

And stars to set; but all — 
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!" 



" Died, at their residence, Aug. 25, Allie, infant 
daughter of Mr. and Mrs. A. G. Laughlin." 

Beside the tiny open grave, beside the fair and 
wax-like corpse, among silent and sorrowful friends, 
were we brought face to face once more with 
the mysterious, the terrifying, the inevitable — 
Death ! 

How like a stern gleaner he comes ! In the midst 
of our wheat we watch a tender blossom grow, 
little dreaming he is nigh. A hand grasps the stem; 
the sweet bud shudders and drops its leaves and 
hangs its head. The fragrance is gone, the stem is 
snapped ; and this is death. ^ 

How is it that Heaven, with all its beauty and 
fragrance and fullness, can want for this one, so fair, 
so young to die, so needed here by life's cheerless 
wayside ? Of what use, more than a blooming baby 
face and a joyous baby laugh, are an empty cradle, 
and an infinite, voiceless silence ? 

We do not know ; we cannot know. It may be 
that the void thus made will be filled with love and 
gentleness and charity. It mjiy be that over the 



302 NOT AT HOME. 

boundless silence may reach chords which alone can 
draw our souls into purer, higher air. 

" It may be this : some tiny space 
Lacked just this little angel face ; 
That heaven's full sunshine missed one ray, 
Until our darling found the way." 



" Some day the women will strike, not for a place in 
politics, but for control and guidance of social life." 

Thus briefly says a newspaper paragraph ; and my 
thought, as I read it, was that if I were given to 
preaching, I should take something like this for a 
text. 

It is a sad truth that woman is, of the two sexes, 
the greater victim of the tyrant called Society ; be 
this acknowledged with the more reluctance because, 
in this case, there is necessarily a degree of willing- 
ness on the part of the victim. 

Society imposes on woman the imitation of fash- 
ions and the following of rules— fashions planned 
in deliberate opposition to the laws of health — rules 
so circumscribed, so exacting, that the heart of 
every true woman should cry out strongly against 
them. 

Here is a woman who rises up and says, '' There 
is no fashion save Nature's ; no rules can be made 
except from a study of individuals.'' Such an one 
has few followers. If Society's awful " Thou shalt 
not " has not the effect of subduing her, she is at 
once stamped — and by those of her own sex — as 



FRAG ME NTH. 803 

"eccentric," "strong-minded," "masculine," and 
tlie like, and is left alone on her snow-clad heights, 
while her sisters go on in the pleasant ( i) paths they 
have chosen — opposing Nature, crucifying their 
bodies, narrowing their minds, and otherwise con- 
forming to Society. As if energy, intellect, and 
individuality were exclusively masculine attributes! 
1^0 wonder the high-souled De Stael exclaimed, in 
sad sarcasm — " There is one comfort in the thought 
of being a woman : and that is, that I shall never 
have to marry one"! 

But "some day the women will strike." Yes, 
we'll have faith enough to believe that. Not for 
political places, but for the reins of social govern- 
ment. The sooner the better. If there be need for 
social reform, the one to begin it is woman,' the 
place to begin it is home; the time, noio. 

Hasten the day when a true and noble woman- 
hood shall be the guiding and controlling spirit in 
the home ! when the daughter shall be taught that 
the stock-in-trade required to gain and hold a posi- 
tion in society must be more than small-talk, taste 
in dress, and the ability to dally among crewels — 
" red," as Lamb says, " with the blood of murdered 
time"! that her first duty, along with the dis- 
charge of parental obligation, is — highest, best, and 
always — self -improvement ! 

Speed the time when Avoman's influence shall be 
felt and her presence be made known in the pulpit 
and through the press ! when she shall dare compete 
with her fellow — man — in every honorable field of 
labor, and when every wasted feminine talent, every 
unused, rusted intellect, and every energy fettered 



304 NOT AT HOME. 

by the chains of society shall be coldly, severely, 
and unrelentingly boycotted! 

Let " What can she do T' be the question at the 
threshold. Then shall we hail the "gude time 
comino:," which shall overthrow the Kingdom of 
Fashion and establish the great Republic of Common 
Sense. 



There is a very pretty superstition — Hebrew, I 
think — which declares that the earth was completed 
some time in midsummer. But the fancy has 
haunted me all day that, to be complete, the globe 
must have been arrayed in Nature's robes of sombre 
hue — the gold and brown — and decked out in fruits 
rather than flowers, ere, fresh from its Maker's 
hand, it was launched out upon its eternal circle '' to 
tread its queenly way among the stars." 

Hereafter, too, I shall ever doubt that the poet's 
"perfect day" lies somewhere in June. It is hard 
to believe that the days do not ripen as the fruit 
does. Is there not as much difference between the 
glaring brightness of a June day and the hazy 
splendor of an Autumn afternoon, as there is between 
the hastily ripened "early June" and the mellow 
sweetness of the fall apple ? 

Better say that the "perfect day" lies in the 
golden Indian summer, when — 

"Like late revelers at dawn, a chance 
Of one sweet, mad, last hour all things assail; 
while to enhance 

The spell, the summer pale 
Steals back alone for one more soni? and dance." 



FRAGMENTS. 30§ 

Summer surely ventured back to-day ! and I'll tell 
you how I know : Her song and dance had wit- 
nesses. 

We of the High School Drawing Class, realizing that 

"Boughs are daily rifled by the gusty thieves, 
And the Book of Nature getteth short of leaves," 

set to-day for a short excursion in the woods, after 
leaf models to be preserved for future imitation. 
To-day means Saturday, that millenium of the week ; 
that Ararat rising above the deluge of the school 
girl's (and boy's) cares; and a more golden day 
could not have been coined to order. We — some 
seventeen of us— felt as if it were made especially for 
us, and still insist that we had our full portion of it. 

We laid aside our school books and every-day 
dignity, and, shaking the dust of the city from our 
sandals, gave ourselves up to Nature, to "hold com- 
munion with her visible forms." 

Hood certainly cared more for the pun than the 
truth when he wrote — 

" No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, 
No fruit, no flowers, no leaves, no buds, 
No — vember!" 

else he never saw a November woods in Kansas. 
Any way, we found plenty of all except the bees. 
What floods of mellow sunshine to cast doubles of 
the leaves in shadows over our merry party ! What 
animated searches for bright-tinted leaves ! What 
an unceasing flow of wit and laughter! Such a 
carpet of moss and leaves, and such eager strippings 
of reluctant boughs! And then the finding of the 
first acorn; the many-sided viewings of old, picturesque 



SOe mf AT HOME. 

stumps with thoughts of future memory-sketchings ; 
the feast of wild grapes ; the catching of a butterfly 
— oh ! it required but Httle on such a day as this to 
make our young artists hilarious ! 

Some one climbed a tall sycamore, to win from it 
the leafy gems which it held so tantalizingly above 
our reach ; and as the leaves were wafted downward, 
you should have seen the up-reaching hands and 
expectant faces lifted to receive them. 

And with what surprise and delight did we hail 
him who, from some unknown quarter, brought and 
held down to our eager grasp branches resplendent 
with glowing Bitter-sweet ! 

We found the river in our wanderings, and paused 
for breath where the willows bend to touch the 
water. We cast tiny stones in, and, noting the ever- 
widening circles from so small a beginning as a peb- 
ble, likened it to our influence m the world, and took 
heart. Perhaps we thought, too, of Ho wells' s delicate 
little description of the river's song : 

' ' All the long Autumn afternoon 

The drowsy little stream 
Whispers a melancholy tune, 
As if it dreamed of June, 

And whispered in its dream." 

But every pleasant thing must have an end. So 
with the day; for ere we are aware — 

The sun sinks down, a glowing ball 

Of amber light. 
Gray shadows lengthen, warning all 

Of coming night. 
And soft no longer — lo! the winds grows stronger. 
And the leaves come dancing, fluttering down. 



FRAGMENTS. 307 

As we retrace the road homeward, we find many 
objects heretofore neglected and well worthy of our 
attention : bits of scenery, glimpses of the river 
through the trees, a small dark ])ool which mirrors 
the banks and trees, et al. 

We compare our various collections, talk of leaves, 
their plan and structure, of the day, the school, and 
the future; and, chatting thus, come to the place 
where our roads divide. Here we part, with the 
agreement that I should write this imperfect sketch. 

Taking an inventory, I find that from ahnost every 
one I have some souvenir of the excursion — a curious 
pebble, a tinted leaf, an acorn, a tuft of moss, a spray 
of the Bitter-sweet— all of which I shall kee]) 
together with most pleasant memories of our "per- 
fect day." 



fl J - i. 3'0! 




^'\'^:W^; J 



^'^•n. 




